xxx: I remember years ago, when I spent the whole summer in Elce, there was such a wonderful event.
Summer, night, somewhere around three o’clock. I am going to sleep. There are drunk screams from the window. I rise to see.
The young proletarian, drunk in the drabadan, goes on the road. The amplitude of its oscillations is a meter four, no less. Embrace each column.
XXX: And then this miracle begins trying to sing.
XXX: And it does not sing anything, but "The Heart of Beauties"! Knowledge of text and melody.
Here is she, the great power of art.