New Russian Venice: about him in "Satyricon" staged a play by Georgian
Once, in a warm summer season, Robert Sturua drove into Florence. He had little time, and he lazily reflected in the sun whether to get into the long queue of tourists, which did not run out to the Uffitz Gallery, or go around the city, when suddenly, having jumped out of a motley multilingual crowd, he rushed to him with funny greetings ... Truffaldino. And in pure Russian, he began to conjure that you have a sinor ok, you promised, our meeting is fate itself.