Under the sky of Russian color. Not a game of cities. Danilova S.A.

This book is about the art of love Russia and accept its love. About how the words “wide my native country” acquire volume when you press the branch of the Karelian pine and Sochi palm, like hands to friends. The Makhachkalinsky clouds-axakals, the Tver jasmine at the House of Poetry, the Arshintsev abandoned beaches, the Vyborg singing angels on the roofs, the Orenburg torches of the gas processing plant-either the heroes of the book, or its co-authors. Stories that wanted to be heard appeared through brick and paving stones, asphalt and hot ground, ancient signs and neon lights.