“That day the sky over Copenhagen was hazy and gray. From time to time, rain drizzled, falling from above onto the courtyard, onto the asphalt mosaic floor, onto the greenery around the graves and onto the slab. Near it, when I approached, three people stood. One was a tall, very handsome old man with curly gray hair and dark eyebrows. He had a light blanket slung over his shoulder, a shoulder bag and binoculars. Next to him stood a lady, still very young, who could be mistaken for his daughter. The third interlocutor was, apparently, a native - a Swede or a Dane, blond, with whitish, colorless eyes...”