Where did I remember, the old man, the Mirv to jump, in the glorious days of the Soviet pantheon, when it was unthinkable for socialist realism to become a subject of negotiation? When in the mid-70s we waited for the millions of fifty-ton T80s to warm up their propellers to pour out into the plains of Central Europe from the Fulda Gap. It didn't take three days for Antwerp, five at most for Biarritz. And portraits and framed, retouched photos of soldiers, officers, and commissars began to be created in the outskirts of Sovietia, smiling, with tanks in the Atlantic beaches as a backdrop. Exactly what we needed to elevate socialist realism to a progressive movement of art and thought.

A collection of socialist realist works from post-war Balkans is purchased to decorate a hotel in Israel. Under economic and paradoxical circumstances, it falls into the hands of the narrator. Exploring possible solutions for its future, the collector-narrator shares with his beloved historian a journey through the paths of the Balkans, in the relationships of politics, myths, emotions, and art. Under the strict gaze of the curator, they decide to exhibit the collection for sale. An imaginative and captivating literary wandering through recent history.