House plans appeared on the table one evening. Something with upstairs, huge. Dad, as far as I understood, had a chance to get a building lot there and to build a house, but it has to be by this plan, the whole block will be like that. Some kind of novogradnja, though not with stacked apartments but individual houses.
It soon became clear that there's no chance we'd gather sufficient money nor get such a loan, so we gave up. But at least I learned to read floorplans, to understand what those lines and markings mean.
Later I heard, when it was built, that they call it budžin bulevar. Well, dad was never a budža. Even when he was, few years later, a director, that was in an agricultural cooperative in nearby village. He was mostly a boss of some department, always close to production.