About the book: 1988 / “...That night for the first time I thought that my mother’s Siberian was just a swindler. As Kutya said from the very beginning - a charlatan. I found fools who were just waiting for something to believe in, who were bored and sick without mokos, hair, grandfathers. And I’m also good, I also hung my ears - but I’m going to become an investigator. It’s interesting to know where he came from here in Leningrad, on Grazhdanskaya Street, which was once Meshchanskaya. His mother brought him - that’s understandable. But where did she pick him up? He didn’t go on a business trip to Siberia, so that means he showed up here himself? What next? Came straight from the station for an excursion to the Hermitage? For some reason I never asked about this, and neither my mother nor her Siberian told me about it themselves - it came from somewhere, well, it came from... Maybe that’s why I didn’t ask because I was instinctively afraid that my kindred interest would degenerate to the investigator's office? It's not pleasant to be a detective in your own home....»