In the words of a comrade’s wife.
Her husband has long and firmly cheated on buying a banjo. Not Chinese, but authentic. To play the country, I mean. Finally, I bought a cheap one, but made in
The United States. For a month he restored this banjo, something twisted, glued, and finally it sounded, and it sounded very good. The only thing left is to learn to play.
He walked into the grid, pumped different lessons for newcomers, for another month, he joked about something every day, and the same thing, well, like a gamma, taught. I tried.
Finally, my wife asked me to take something off. I really wanted to hear the real country on the real instrument of Yankee.
What happened next, to the pain resembled an episode from the famous film: sitting in pyjamas on the board, unshaken, with the smile of a blessed fool, he played "Apple". Not as virtuous as Ballikov, but still.
He is now studying Murakami.