About the book: year / - Are you already fucking your idol? And we're doing karaoke here! Egor! Did you order Lanfren-lanfra? I'm breaking out in a sweat. My friend yells “you’re already fucking…”. In front of my husband. - Did you go crazy? - I whisper angrily. - What are you doing? - What? - Yegor interjects, apparently unable to restrain himself, snatching the phone from Milana. “Egor,” I begin, trying to somehow put all this surrealism into a pile. But they interrupt me, harshly, loudly and rudely. Hesitating and hiccupping. “Let’s not pretend to be... whatever you’re pretending to be.” I know everything. You can stay in London with your lover, and let the boy fly home. - What are you doing? Egor? — Taken aback, I raise my voice, my face burns. “Which “home”?” “What,” Yegor blurts out, “are you not ashamed to have an affair with your son?”?