Lyuba hasn’t looked at the sky for a long time. Everything that could interest Lyuba was under her feet. In winter it was snow, and if suddenly there was a thaw followed by frost, then there was also ice, in the spring there was a layer of ice and snow, in the fall there was dry foliage, and then a mess of it, wet. Plus out-of-season garbage. It was still summer. In the summer there was the same garbage from the nearby garbage dump, carried away overnight by homeless dogs (then homeless people competed with them), beer bottles (and later beer cans), cigarette butts, advertisements torn from the walls and dog shit on the lawns. In the summer, all this was observed in its pure form, without any admixture of coarse sediments, except perhaps sprinkled with rain...