About the book: 1983 / “...Now I had to decide on something. Or hang out in front of the windows until Fish notices and thinks: who is standing there? Or run up the stairs in one breath and call. Alena moved along the house, stopping and looking through the thin bare branches of the trees, looking for a window with a feeding trough on the third floor. I hid the sheet of poetry in my bag: where should I put it? I remembered something I recently read from Yevtushenko: “I put a poem on a branch.” The next moment, Alena was already planting her sheet of poetry on a branch opposite the window with the feeder. I ran to the gate and looked back. “I imitate Yevtushenko. Only I imitate not poetry, but actions.” The wind ruffled the sheet of poetry, Alena stood there, made sure she wouldn’t fly away, and was satisfied with her action and the tree. I thought: “Yevtushenko wrote well.” She herself would have written this: “People are walking, looking in surprise, the tree is waving a poem»…»