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Nothing shows that Nikita Kurilin should become a writer, certainly not a famous one. Kurilin has no literary education whatsoever. He does not even have a vocation for writing. He encounters only people from the margins of the society, outsiders like himself, outcasts. It seems Kurilin is doomed to live in oblivion forever. And still he is described by his anonymous biographer as one of the greatest polyphonic writers in the last years of existence of the Soviet Union. In fact, Nikita Kurilin was born in a not asphalted street in Jeremovo, to the south of Moscow on 27th June 1938. His mother died just after the labour. The life of Nikita Kurilin starts with this trauma which he is frequently reminded of by the exaggerated, tearing recalls of his grandmother. As years went by Kurilin began to doubt the story of his birth. In adulthood he starts an investigation that leads him to Butovo, to Butovo polygon to a place chosen by The NKVD. 20, 000 people were shot there during the purge. Tomorrow will have been a nice Sunday is the seventh and the last part of a novel by Antoine Volodine named Writers - published by the publishing house Édition du Seuil in 2011. It tells the story of Volodine´s entirely insignificant life. It is the last tribute to the people executed in Butovo. The story of a traumatic birth comes in concordance with the catastrophe of the History.
