About the book: year / The girl squeezes her thin crooked fingers around a green stem. He is seriously considering whether to pick flowers in this garden. And then, nevertheless, he confidently pulls himself towards himself. A light crunch is heard in the twilight. Since these flowers cannot belong to her, then they cannot belong to anyone. The smell of white lilies envelops the hands, and then all the girl’s clothes. She runs away. Flowers shouldn't grow in hell…