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We used to have a "bar" near the institute, down the alley and down the stairs.
There was nothing there except beer, nuts, and concerts. Sometimes Nightwish, sometimes Hanz and so on. I probably loved it because they always played Hanz. And there was this one guy there. He was the owner and the bartender. And everyone gave him CDs, saying, "Put it on and keep it for your collection." Then they gave him electric guitars, and he hung them on the wall in the same bar, etc. It was a nice place.
Все псы попадают в рай
Какие бы законы мы не писали, нас все равно расстреляют, если мы проиграем эту войну.