Vasily closed the book, and, with a sigh, looked at the wall. "Ehma, man, Che wanted to say something?" - Basil thought, and began to fry an egg. The world still seemed to him a gray and dull, and even the sun's rays filtering through the icy expanse of glass, do not dispel his melancholy. Vasily is not the first time host read a book given to him a few years ago, my sister's birthday, but every time certainly lost the thread of the narrative, not realizing what was going on. This time, he vowed not to open it, and on occasion to ask his sister briefly describe the content, not to waste time. The clock struck six. On the TV news began.
