Oh boy. All of a sudden, this apartment has turned into backstage for some Christian missionaries masquarading as a rock band. Voiceless young guys trying to conceal their voicelessness by making lots of noise with their electric guitars, drums and other equipment, all packed into the wooden gazebo right outside our window. They wanted to use our sockets, but this room happens to be Marta's bedroom, so I didn't let them. Oh, and they are preaching, of course. "We are normal, religious guys." (My normalniye, veruyuschiye rebyata.) Soundwise, it's worse than Khreshchatyk on a weekend. But the kids seem to love it. Songs are in Russian and Ukrainian - and, Jesus, I have to say it again: that guy is so voiceless.