The sweltering summer is in full swing. A bronze statue of Pushkin is being installed in the town of N. Pyotr, the refuse lorry driver, drives round his familiar routes, emptying the bins baked by the sun. Everyone is waiting for rain, but only fierce thunder rumbles on these sultry evenings, doing nothing to cool the scorching earth. Only the spray from a small fountain offers relief from the stifling tedium. A wedding is being prepared. Pyotr is about to marry off his only son, who is cold and stern towards his father’s love. At night, the fountain falls silent; all that remains is Pushkin’s bronze shoulder, upon which one can rest a head weary from the day’s toil…
