19
The heat infiltrated his dreams. N. saw himself in Red Square filled with sunshine. A statue of a naked leader stood in the centre of the square, his nakedness no doubt a symbol that he had nothing to hide from his people. The sun reflected off the frail, freshly cast extremities and the round belly: the bronze leader was certainly no Apollo, neither were the townsfolk whom the statue’s unembellished countenance should have pleased. The pigeons were searching for something among the cobbles, occasionally flying up to land on the leader, choosing a most unexpected perch.
Naked buskers arrived. The pigeons made way for them. The buskers pulled more musicians from their instrument cases. These musicians were smaller, but also naked, and the buskers began playing on them.
“Ah, well, we k
