Metallica - Stone Dead Forever

“I don’t remember now well, on the second or third day of the exhibition, so around noon, I look, in the first hall there is a tall broad-shouldered old man with long gray hair, descending to his shoulders. He was dressed in a long black hood like a monastic cassock. For some reason, his characteristic face seemed familiar to me: shaved, without a beard and a mustache, a large nose with a hump, thick eyebrows hanging over his eyes. The old man was carefully supported by the arm of my friend Yanka Wohl. With apparent delight he peered into the picture and, without taking his eyes off, bent to his companion and listened to what she told him. Obviously, Yanka conveyed what she heard from me.