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Instead, their best clues to Perestroika’s whereabouts come from an Irish telephone psychic who sees the young filly “walking down the street, looking into shopwindows.”

He stood rooted in front of a shopwindow.

People were still painting on the shopwindows, but this time the painters were the bearded people, the shop owners themselves.

Mariam saw festive lanterns hanging from shopwindows, heard music blaring from loudspeakers.

From the top, they watch the small figures of tourists stroll past shopwindows.