Behind the unconscious forehead of the genius, as under the fool's bump, there are moments of boldness and years of impatient vacuum. On a rope of iron nerve, the white cauldrons are rocking ... Is it well - with a knife measured by someone quiet and terribly unkind. And the rope can suck up like a snare to shake, and one day it can happen to somebody in a hurry ... Citizens - known, anonymous, citizen, people, citizens, keep each other - some of you are geniuses!