'The sun is dark orange. It's going down behind the chimneys of an abandoned factory, towards the hills surrounding the town. Sparrows feed in the eaves of apartment blocks. I look to my right and see Vasily wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his t-shirt. The sun is moving slowly, reluctantly, giving him time. We turn up a dirt road. The valley is alive with barking, as if the dogs sense someone new, or someone old. Our van stops outside a green wooden house. A woman is coming to the gate.' (Publication abstract)