In the extreme district of Sofia, where new housing construction is growing rapidly, an old wooden house has been miraculously preserved between eight-story blocks. This house belongs to Kostadin, a pensioner. Here the old people of the company gather: Yusuf, a Turk who has ever had a barber shop nearby; Tanichka - a Russian woman, of princely origin; Artaki, an Armenian, also a loner and Chaim, who does not belong to the caste of the rich Jews of commerce. Unlike other utopias, this one wasn't invented. It really exists. No one cares how long this will last. All this was left in the hands of death, who for a long time roamed the neighborhood around Kostadin's house.—Ivan Radoev