Again, scattered pictures before my eyes: the director of the school - where he studies, and she teaches - a fat bald, always stinking type with oily eyes. A tall locksmith in a greasy checkered shirt and a gap-toothed mouth. An unidentified man, buttoning his trousers on the move, whom he encounters at the door when he returns from music school. Herman does not even have time to really see his face. The mocking grins of neighbors and yard boys, burning through his back, when he drags himself into his porch with a violin case. He is a smart boy, but this creature is unworthy of such a son. She's...