Fifth apartment, second floor. Valya is hurriedly getting ready for going out to the bar. She's late as usual. Why is it today her hair is looking so messy, and her favorite longsleeve is so crumpled? It's unpleasant, but it wouldn't be an obstacle to have a drink. But only one glass… well, two at most. Tomorrow is Thursday after all. Out of the corner of her eye she notices the light of a dim street lamp, barely penetrating the dense foliage of the poplars growing opposite the house. And either it shines in a special way today, or she is in such a sentimental mood, but Valya suddenly realizes that what she really wants is not to go to the bar or even to have perfectly styled hair, but to drive on a late September evening of 1997, lying on the back seat of her mother’s beige «Zhiguli» car. She really want to see the same dim streetlights quickly replace each other outside the window, and her mom deftly light another cigarette from the car lighter, and smell through the open windows the inexorably approaching autumn. Could anything be better? Only if Anton Rekov's mix for 5/8: radio