12.00
Humid foliage sticking to you, wet papers, red buildings—somehow our trip was not a great success; we managed to cross half the city, we made it into the square, as though we expected to find our friend on the street, finally we get pushed out of the trolleybus by the ticket inspectors, and now we continue on foot, cross the square, walk on, looking at the posters, looking at the advertisements, there’s nothing else to look at, Dogg is dragging a backpack with booze; near the bake shop there’s a crowd of crazy hippies, they’ve crawled together like rats seeking fresh air, they stand around drinking something, and near them are some familiar faces, Sasha Chernetsky is there, and someone else in a leather jacket with badges and medals; we know Sasha, Dogg and I even went to his concer
