“Summer Moscow evening. A rickshaw rides along the boulevard ring. Sunlight plays on the nickel-plated spokes of the wheels. Vadik is lounging in a stroller, a bottle of beer in his hand. Sasha pedals, turns around from time to time and looks at his friend; then he looks forward to the alley of Chistye Prudy. Vadik. What a day it was! Look, Sashenka, look, dear, how merciful nature is to us! How much warmth, sun, greenery!.. The beginning of summer! Everything is resurrected, moving, groaning!.. Everything wants to live! Mother Nature, you are trying to wake us, your sons! You tell us: guys, don’t worry, joy doesn’t come from money! Look how many girls there are around! The girls put on shorter skirts and blouses, so that their blouses would ride up a little when walking, and their skirts would fall a little... and ride up and fall - as if by chance, by chance... (Screams.) Girls, please be more modest! I may not be able to sit in the carriage!..”