“...The profession in which my dad retired was a civil aviation pilot. His retirement came quite early; a year of work was considered to be one and a half years. Perestroika was in full swing, so after dad and those who retired with him, almost no one flew - because the airport, airfield, planes, ground services and fuel and lubricant warehouses were quickly stolen and rendered completely unusable. For many years, this tireless airport, which was ideally suited for smooth functioning, died. Life was glimmering only far, far beyond the runway, at a weather station, a striped “sorcerer” was shaking in the wind... There they collected the weather and sold it to TV...”