He's a teenager. They mockingly called him Friday. And he's among Soviet high-rises. The last decade of the promised Paradise.
But this isn't about everyday life or politics. This is about magic. About the inner drama of an unusual schoolboy. Outside - dreariness, humiliation, and uselessness. And behind the door of the soul - sails, a rapier, and Casanova, and the mad question "why." And an inscription in blood: THERE IS NOTHING, THERE IS ONLY ME.