The year 94 was - still lived in Russia. I sit at home – I clean the gasoline, Walter PP, I don’t touch anyone. A bell at the door. Well, I’m going to open, and I picked up the gun machinefully with me (without intention, really).
And on the threshold such a smiling young man - looks me straight in the eyes and so with enthusiasm: Hello! My name is Nikita! I am a Christian! Do you care about God?(During this speaking, his gaze descends below, below... - stumbles on a gun... Pause)
I see you are not interested, thank you, goodbye.
p.s And why is he so — I may have just wondered...