NEW PEOPLE RADIO - ANDREY ILYIN

You know, I got a letter from the Housing Committee again. From our housing and communal services, which, in my opinion, has long been transformed into a waste paper production department. Do you know what they write? That the possibility of a major renovation of the facade of our house... is postponed to 2074. Two thousand and seventy-four.

I'll be in seventy-four, damn it... and I probably won't be anymore. I will be cremated, the ashes will be scattered, and they write to me: "Dear owner, be patient, your right to dry walls will be implemented as planned." What's the planned plan?! There's a crack in my facade from the ground floor to the attic, and pigeons have been flying into the stairwell for five years! I applied photos to them, inspection certificates, and they replied to me: "Your appeal has been considered, the house is included in the regional program." He's included... he's included in the program like in a hospice — just to be listed until he finally falls apart.

And after all, the most cynical thing in this story is not this piece of paper with blue seals. The most cynical thing is the line in my pink receipt. Which I open every month as a verdict. "Contribution for major repairs." Every day, every week, every month. Twenty years old. Thirty. They've been collecting for this renovation since the first day the house was commissioned. I've probably already built three new facades for them in my life. And the Moldovan team, and their foreman, and their Gazelle, on which they carry the mortar.

Where's the money, huh? Which stabilization fund do they belong to? What percentage of them are being turned while my wall is crumbling on the heads of passersby? They probably think in their offices on St. Isaac's Square that we mere mortals have been living for two hundred years. That we're sitting in our Khrushchev and Brezhnev houses, drinking tea, looking out the window at the falling plaster and saying: "Nothing, nothing, I'll turn one hundred and twenty, just in time for 2074, the tiles in the yard will be moved, we'll heal!"

This is not city management. This is some kind of sophisticated form of bullying. They have learned to respond to everything in such a way that you can't find fault with the law, but in conscience you want to punch in the face. "Lack of budget funding limits." "The need for design and survey work." "The order."

Priority… I'll tell you what our order is. We are in line for the death of this house. And the Housing and Communal Services just politely holds our place.

Listen… Should we answer them? In the same language. Write an official letter. "Dear Chairman, In response to your notification about the postponement of repairs to 2074, I inform you that I am suspending the payment of contributions until the same date. My financial condition is included in a long-term stabilization program, and the possibility of transferring funds will be considered on a first-come, first-served basis. I am sending a copy of the letter to the prosecutor's office and immediately in 2074, let them read there too."

Although... they'll probably archive that, too. Until better times. Until the fifties, which they promise us.