What’s there to remember? I live the same way as everyone else. Perestroika…Gorbachev…The postmistress opened the gate: “Did you hear? The Communists are out.” “What do you mean?” “They shut down the Party.” No shots fired, nothing. These days they say we used to have a mighty fortress and then we lost it all. But what have I really lost? I’ve always lived in the same little house without any amenities—no running water, no plumbing, no gas—and I still do today. My whole life, I’ve done honest work. I toiled and toiled, got used to backbreaking labor. And only ever earned kopecks. All I had to eat was macaroni and potatoes, and that’s all I eat today. I’m still going around in my old Soviet fur—and you should see the snows out here!

The best thing I can remember is getting married. We were in love. I remember walking home from the marriage registration bureau, the lilacs in bloom. The lilacs! If you can believe it, there were nightingales singing on their branches…That’s how I remember it…We lived happily for a few years, we had a daughter…Then Vadik started drinking, and the vodka ended up killing him. He died young, he was only forty-two. Ever since, I’ve lived alone. My daughter is all grown up, she got married and moved away.

In the winter, we always get snowed in, the whole village is blanketed in snow—the houses and the cars. Sometimes, the buses won’t run for weeks on end. What’s going on out there in the capital? It’s a thousand kilometers from here to Moscow. We watch Moscow life unfold on TV like it’s a movie. I’ve heard of Putin and Alla Pugacheva…The rest, I know nothing about. Rallies, demonstrations…Out here, we live the same way we’ve always lived. Whether it’s socialism or capitalism. Who’s Red, who’s White—it makes no difference. The important thing is to make it to spring. Plant potatoes…[A long silence.] I’m sixty years old…I don’t go to church, but I do need someone to talk to. To talk to about other things…about how I don’t feel like getting old, I have no desire to get old at all. It’ll be too bad when it comes time to die. Have you seen my lilacs? I go out at night to look at them—they glow. I’ll just stand there admiring them. Here, let me cut you a bouquet…