A young man in an apron cleans a dark, old-fashioned barbershop with red leather chairs, a golden mirror, and a scythe on the floor, bathed in morning light.

It is morning. It is not yet seven o'clock, but the barbershop of Makar Kuzmich Blestkin is open. The owner, a young man of 23, with a dirty face and a dirty, but at the same time, smart and neat clothes, is busy tidying up the shop. Although there is nothing to tidy up, his face and body are covered in sweat from the effort he is putting in. He pulls a rag here, rubs a finger there, in another corner he knocks a scythe off the wall and tosses it to the ground. See more