In the early nineties, Peter. I am a student and I live in a community. Once a month from Ukraine comes to me the old comrade Sashko, a graduate of our institute. I let him stay overnight, and he made me feel... Sacha has a serious (at that time) business, he drove from Ukraine to Peter... gold in the form of a shapeless shell – 1.5 kg. He gave this jewelry to a well-known jewel.
Of course, nobody but me knew the details of his business and Sascha was wildly trembling.
One night, he returned to his shelter in horror and said quietly, “I have lost my gold, now hang yourself.”
I found out that he was wearing it in the inner pocket of his jacket, could not pull out. He began to shake him and found out that in the Small Market he was inclined to tie the rope and apparently the rope fell.
But it happened at 7 a.m., and now it is the hour of the night...I say, we went...
We took a taxi, bought a Chinese lighthouse and went to the Sitny Market. It was dark and terrible there, the wind was chasing the garbage on the ground, where Sashko tied the ropes, we found nothing... we walked a little more and in the meters of twenty, I shouted... Sashko, go here, you will not regret...
...You just think about it - the whole day on the market were marchers with margarine and cigarettes, spinning on the ground a chic apartment in the center of Peter (the golden straw was scratched).
...Since I hear that nothing can be corrected, I remember this story and understand that it is very even possible...