Phantom pain. The last dream of the owner. Voschanov P.

The Kremlin disappeared in the snowfall. Instead, shadows appeared. Shadows of the cathedrals. Shadows of palaces. The shadows of the tsar-gun and the King-Call. Even the red -killed Kremlin wall became a light shadow on a white lace canvas flowing from heaven. In the recently repaired front hall, those who were called the “immediate environment” gathered in the press. There were no outsiders. Unless two mummers, Donskoy and Kuban, who fed to the owner three years ago, when he was fishing on the southern lakes...