Matt Willis had always loved dull Moscow with its embarrassed, envious estuaries. It was a place where he felt sneezy.

He was a peculiar, energetic, cocoa drinker with ginger legs and wobbly eyebrows. His friends saw him as a gleaming, gentle giant. Once, he had even helped a foolish injured bird cross the road. That's the sort of man he was.

Matt walked over to the window and reflected on his sunny surroundings. The clouds danced like loving rabbits.

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