"Slow prose", that is, as the living of the two thousandth write, prose - an attempt to portray what we saw in the mirror the time comes: stories about successful clerk who is suddenly homeless drifter and begins life anew, with amazement watching himself; pro Crimean resort of bliss, which the narrator suddenly turned inside out, causing him to survive almost any suicide languor, about the life of the inhabitants of the usual Moscow court, pictures that suddenly start to sound like a leaky canvas, and out of the cracks of the black stretch canvas drafts unknown - frightening and fascinating - reality, about the night of hotel girl and her weird client with ascertaining what is actually happening to them, and other stories. In other words, prose about the "ordinary" life "ordinary" people, each of which - a mystery for others and for ourselves.
