About the book: year / Borka was the first to leave. He left quietly, even properly, without really saying goodbye. He threw a pebble at the window, waved his hand, seeing her still sleepy silhouette, and disappeared around the corner of the arched opening. This is how he has always been. Modest. Smiling. This is how I remember it now. Costs. Cap on the back of the head. With his left shoe he throws up a tarpaulin ball. Hands in pockets. It’s as if he wants to say, “Well, Tanyukh, will you stand at the gate today or something?”, and he doesn’t dare.