“I have long mourned the musical repertoire of my childhood. “Sonatina” by Clementi... “Turkish Rondo” by Mozart... The endless monotony of Czerny’s etudes... Now my fingers are running only on the computer keys. But sometimes the foot unconsciously still tries to find the pedal: to soften this or that “sound of prose”, to dampen the intonation... Still, childhood is firmly stuck in us - its light, its tears, and these southern stars that once hung above the very top of our heads , babbled, blinked, circled... and over the years they fade for some reason and move further and further away from us." Contents: Stories: When will it snow? Double surname Stories On Saturdays This wonderful Altukhov Concert on the package of the "Society of Book Lovers" Astral flight of the soul to physics lessonHouse behind the green gate"It's still the same dream!.."Cleaning dayMusic lessonsBlackthornOne intellectual sat down on the roadApples from Schlitzbuter's gardenGypsy Murderer