Summer is over and it is autumn again, beautiful as ever. Even if you are no artist at all you can see its beauty. It is a season when the trees are simply fantastic — yellow, red, green and brown, not just one brown, but browns of all possible shades: light brown, dark brown, yellowish brown and all of a richness that only an artist can see and describe. Victor is back in Vorontsovo. He has just come but his thoughts are still in Kiev where the autumn is so beautiful. This is not his first visit there. He has already been to Kiev and he has learnt its streets, roads, parks, theatres, cinemas and old and new beautiful buildings. He easily recognizes the streets, buildings, buses, parks and the noise. Noise is everywhere. Now he is with his classmates and the usual talk begins. "Hallo, Victor!" "Hallo, Pete." "I am very glad to see you again. How is everything?" "Thank you, fine." "Now tell me, where have you been all the time? I haven't seen you for ages and you haven't written a word. Did you go anywhere?" "Certainly, I did. I have just come back from Kiev." "How did you like it? Is it a good place to go to?" "Splendid! You must go there some day, too." "I certainly shall. And I shall write letters to you as I know you like to get letters."
