He traveled by train from Paris to the provinces. I went on another trip to buy objets d'art - only such as I could afford on my modest postage fee. I heard that the office of the mayor of the municipality of Usni put up for sale some trivial empire-style crafts. Our hero hoped to earn good money there. After all, tea is not the beer and the prices promised to be divine. Thus in my dreams I arrived at the town hall, which was located in an old cabin, I entered the hall and was surprised, I encountered painfully familiar features! So he was standing by the bronze statue in complete madness, when suddenly he was called from above. The mayor of Usni, coming down the stairs, saw the postman and shouted: "Why are you standing here, my dear! You are wasting your time! The auction is in full swing, everything will be sold without you! Get up quickly." The postman looked up at him: "You know it's Picasso? " He burst out laughing: "Yes, of course! Two weeks ago the boys dug a ditch next to the road. We barely got here. No, my dear, Picasso is not lying on the road! Our postman shook his head in disbelief. After the auction he returned to the chest in the hall and looked at it again for a long time. Then he even ran his fingertips along the bronze profile, as if trying to make sure it was real. In the evening, shivering on the train back and chewing on a homemade sandwich, he thought a lot, as if arguing with himself, weighing the pros and cons. But suddenly he jumped up, dropped the lunch box, and shouted to the whole carriage: "And yet it's Picasso! Damn, it's Picasso!!! The passengers just looked at him dismissively. He did not sleep all night and rushed to the police before dark to report the sensational discovery. For a long time they did not want to accept his statement, not to take his confused stories seriously. But eventually they rummaged through the police files and discovered that in 1999, in the sixth arrondissement of Paris, a bust by Picasso had been stolen. Stolen from a public garden near the Abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

He traveled by train from Paris to the provinces. I went on another trip to buy objets d'art - only such as I could afford on my modest postage fee. I heard that the office of the mayor of the municipality of Usni put up for sale some trivial empire-style crafts. Our hero hoped to earn good money there. After all, tea is not the beer and the prices promised to be divine. Thus in my dreams I arrived at the town hall, which was located in an old cabin, I entered the hall and was surprised, I encountered painfully familiar features! So he was standing by the bronze statue in complete madness, when suddenly he was called from above. The mayor of Usni, coming down the stairs, saw the postman and shouted: "Why are you standing here, my dear! You are wasting your time! The auction is in full swing, everything will be sold without you! Get up quickly." The postman looked up at him: "You know it's Picasso? " He burst out laughing: "Yes, of course! Two weeks ago the boys dug a ditch next to the road. We barely got here. No, my dear, Picasso is not lying on the road! Our postman shook his head in disbelief. After the auction he returned to the chest in the hall and looked at it again for a long time. Then he even ran his fingertips along the bronze profile, as if trying to make sure it was real. In the evening, shivering on the train back and chewing on a homemade sandwich, he thought a lot, as if arguing with himself, weighing the pros and cons. But suddenly he jumped up, dropped the lunch box, and shouted to the whole carriage: "And yet it's Picasso! Damn, it's Picasso!!! The passengers just looked at him dismissively. He did not sleep all night and rushed to the police before dark to report the sensational discovery. For a long time they did not want to accept his statement, not to take his confused stories seriously. But eventually they rummaged through the police files and discovered that in 1999, in the sixth arrondissement of Paris, a bust by Picasso had been stolen. Stolen from a public garden near the Abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.