From the author Which of us would have thought then, in the midst of our early youth, in the 90s, when we lived from a concert to a concert, when we almost daily hanged around the basements, entrances, crossings, when we mowed under the image of their idol Konstantin Kinchev-a slanting bangs, jeans, a jacket or a short pea, high boots, a red scarf, a scarf, or a black T-shirt with symbols (the older-the cooler), when they divided the latter, traveling to concerts in cities with almost no