It was 1986. A friend of my father came to visit us in the village. Captain of long-distance navigation. The guest was my jeans. The Jeans!! In our depths they were seen several times when my uncle came and filmed a film in the club. I woke up in the morning with a wonderful feeling of how all the dogs in the village were dead of envy... they hanged on the back of the chair. The dream. A caring grandmother. With the shooters. To my reasonable cry why, I answered simply – well, it’s also trousers...