I studied in the evening department. It did not delay from the army, so male students there were mainly of two categories: either already served (older than 2-3 years, but in the first year really seemed adult uncles), or obviously unfit for health (there were still solving problems in other ways, but few, isolated cases).

Winter session of the first course, smoking training corps. Ivan (this strong guy from the suburbs, served, is going to marry and the first son to name in honor of his bathi - in general, the larvae of a stereotypical "true man," the proletarian bone) and Volodya (the same stereotypical intelligent little boy in glasses, not yet flew out of under my mother's wing) together bowed over the notebook and discuss something. Loud, emotional, shaking his hands. I became interested.

It turned out, they argue how to properly draw naked women and whether to depict the hair on the scroll.