Read mother's Siberian gray neck syllable by syllable. Dmitry Mamin-Sibiryak - Gray Neck: A Fairy Tale. Mamin-Sibiryak D. N. Gray neck read online text

A little duck named Gray Neck could not fly with her family to warmer climes because the Fox injured her wing. When the duck was left alone, out of boredom she decided to go into the forest. There Gray neck met the Hare, who warned her that she needed to be wary of the Fox. The fox came every day to the duck and waited until all the ice was frozen. One morning the hunter wanted to shoot the Fox, but saw a duck in an almost frozen hole. He took it and gave it to his grandchildren.

His confident and irresponsible manner shows not a particle of doubt. For now we will stay at his dacha, twenty-eight kilometers from the city. We will leave the van here in this parking lot overnight. Someone needs to stay with him to watch our things. Here we are at Vyacheslav's large dacha, in a densely populated village of dachas. Vyacheslav moves away from others concrete wall with steel gates. On the other side of the access road, but inside the wall, there is a smaller dacha, which Vyacheslav told me is the dacha of his security officers.

The main idea of ​​Mamin-Sibiryak’s story

The fairy tale tells that you cannot give up and you must always go to the end despite all life’s obstacles.

IN autumn time the birds were preparing to fly to warm places. The duck and the drake were constantly arguing. She condemned her husband for being indifferent to their children. He assumed that he was acting correctly. All the quarrels were over a small wounded duck, whose wing was injured by the Fox in the spring. The mother rushed to save the duck, but the duck was no longer able to fly.

Here we return to Vologda early in the morning. Faithful Volodya, when we find him, is walking unhappily through the parking lot. He's a little dressed up from his night in the van. Vyacheslav's mechanic was called and is already on his way. Now, says Vyacheslav, we will go to a tennis exhibition donated by his son, a rising tennis star. Then we will go on a tour of the Vyacheslavsky plant. In the meantime, Volodya will stay and talk with the mechanic and the van.

Here we are at Vyacheslav's factory. The plant is a Soviet-era concrete-and-brick pile reconfigured as a bottling plant, with many corridors, storerooms, and catwalks. As we experience this, Vyacheslav tells me that he was first trained as a metallurgical engineer, but after meeting the founder of the first Russian bottled water company, he got the idea to start such a business himself. He started a company with friends, hired a team of geologists to search for springs, found the water from one particular spring to be good tasting and very healthy, and began refilling it.

The old duck was worried about her, since Gray Neck could not fly to warmer climes with everyone and had to spend the winter alone in the forest. Before leaving, her mother taught her to stay on the bank of the river, which would not freeze in winter because of the spring gushing in it. Although she and Gray Neck were her favorite child, she could not leave the other children on the flight.

The company's success was enormous. He attributes this to the company's collective modus operandi and the water itself, which he says is better and cleaner than bottled water in America, where what is sold as spring water is actually fake distilled or supplied from a public water supply. bottled water is alive, he says, while bottled water in America is “dead water.”

In office after office, he introduces me to his staff, who stand on their desks and smile and say they are glad to meet me. Van, which we had hoped would be done by now, seems to have presented some new difficulties. Stanislav in the seventies, with thinned blond hair, combed back, withered blue eyes and calm style. It seems he has already done this kind of duty. He shows me the cathedral that Ivan the Terrible built in record time, refusing food to the workers when they progressed too slowly; Soon after the cathedral was completed, it began to fall apart, and it was not consecrated for many years.

The only wounded duck left wandered into the forest out of boredom. She met a hare, who warned her that a Fox was wandering in the forest in search of prey.

The river in which Gray Neck lived became increasingly covered with a crust of ice. After some time, a very small ravine remained in the river. And then, the trickster Fox appeared from the forest, the one who crippled the duck. The red-haired sly one started a conversation with Gray Neck, her voice was soft and affectionate. But the duck could not forget the insult and did not even talk to the Fox. As the robber left, he said that this would not be her last visit.

Stanislav also shows me the house of the first translator of Marx's Das Kapital into Russian and the building in which Lenin's sister lived while in exile, and the statue of Lenin that Stanislav talks about is the only statue of Lenin in the world in life size, It looks painful, as if the powerful Bolshevik simply stood on a pedestal and was bronze alive. A woman selling vegetables in Bilibin, a city above the Arctic Circle in the Chukotka region, part of the most remote Siberia just across the Bering Strait from Alaska.

Here we are in Vyacheslav’s office. Sergei and Volodya have just arrived. Van left the store and was presumably ready to go to work. My own plan simple: let's go. Oh, but that's too hasty an idea, I'm told. We shouldn't leave now, but instead we'll stay at Vyacheslav's dacha.

The fox visited the duck every day and watched as the hole became smaller and smaller. The hare felt sorry for his duck friend, but he couldn’t change anything.

One morning the bunnies had a fun time at the frosty edge. A hunter appeared at the edge of the forest, he wanted to kill several birds with one stone in order to make a fur coat for his wife. But suddenly I saw the Fox, who came out once again to see if the water was completely frozen. The old man shot at the Fox, but missed. He ran to the river, but noticed only a small duck.

Sergei and Volodya strongly support this idea. So we go to Vyacheslav’s dacha that evening. Around midnight, Vyacheslav shoots down a semi-automatic rifle and begins to tell us about his bear hunting adventures. Here we say goodbye to Vyacheslav and his wife on the steps of their dacha the next morning. Against expectations, it begins.

Of course, the diseases of the bath were not cured - not then and did not exist, indeed. When the ignition stopped, Sergei found a way to help him by opening the hood and leaning down with a large screwdriver from our equipment. Soon his pokers will make a big, sparkling pop, the engine will start, and Sergei will burst out of the car, his eyebrows singing a little. He thought for a while, and then said that there was nothing to say in words in the car. In Russia you can easily check.

The old man thought that the treacherous Fox had turned into a duck and took her to his home. Having brought the duck home, he gave it to his grandchildren, who really liked it.

Picture or drawing Gray neck

  • Summary of Jesus Christ - rock opera superstar

    More and more people believe that Jesus is the son of the Lord God, and only Judas refuses to admit it. Judas is sure that thoughts about Jesus and God do not allow people to focus on the threat from the Romans.

    For several days we moved east towards the Urals. You never knew what he would do next. Sometimes it was a no-frills two-stripe black tone for several hours. Arriving in the village, the road can lead straight to the Olympic mud puddle or lose yourself among the streets, apparently based on cattle roads. Many stops to ask for directions will be required before we pick up his flow again. In long, deserted stretches with no villages nearby, people sat along the road, selling things, or not.

    You can see a very fat and elderly woman in a bright yellow dress, sitting on a folding chair and reading a newspaper, from which there is nothing to sell; then, a kilometer later, a group of little boys with several buckets and a sign that said "Crayfish". Day after day, men and women waited next to cardboard boxes filled with newspaper cones of mushrooms, gooseberries, strawberries, ferns and pine nuts. The term for these forest products is pasture, Sergei told me; it literally means "food found underfoot."

  • Hello, dear reader. In the fairy tale “The Gray Neck,” Mamin-Sibiryak talks about a small duck with a damaged wing. She could not fly, so with the arrival of late autumn she was left alone. Her mother was very worried, but she had a lot of children and she could not stay with Gray Neck for the winter. The river in which the duck was swimming began to freeze, and the fox, who had long wanted to eat the duck, was creeping closer and closer every day. An old hunter saved Sheika, he wanted to shoot the fox so that his woman would have a collar, but the fox ran away, and the grandfather took the duck home so that it would not freeze, but at home it would please his grandchildren and lay testicles. We recommend reading the fairy tale “The Gray Neck” by Mamin-Sibiryak online for children of any age; it is very instructive and will be interesting to everyone.

    Regularly we passed women standing alone, and every barefoot ship that passed by looked at it. When they realize that the driver is not stopping, they turn away, their eyes drooping. When we stopped to refuel, the stations were as small as possible. Several fuel pumps on a gravel apron and a sheet metal kiosk with a glass or plastic pay window so thick and opaque that you could barely see the attendants inside amounted to total quantity their amenities.

    The first autumn cold, from which the grass turned yellow, brought all the birds into great alarm. Everyone began to prepare for the long journey, and everyone had such a serious, worried look. Yes, it is not easy to fly over a space of several thousand miles... How many poor birds will be exhausted along the way, how many will die from various accidents - in general there was something to seriously think about.
    Serious big bird like swans, geese and ducks, they were getting ready for the journey with an important air, aware of the difficulty of the upcoming feat; and the most noisy, fussing and fussing were small birds, such as sandpipers, phalaropes, dunlins, dunnies, and plovers. For a long time they had been gathering in flocks and moving from one bank to another along the shallows and swamps with such speed, as if someone had thrown a handful of peas. The little birds had such a big job...
    The forest was dark and silent, because the main singers had flown away without waiting for the cold.
    - And where is this little thing in a hurry? - grumbled the old Drake, who did not like to disturb himself. “We’ll all fly away in due time... I don’t understand what there is to worry about.”
    “You’ve always been lazy, that’s why it’s unpleasant for you to look at other people’s troubles,” explained his wife, the old Duck.
    - Was I lazy? You're just being unfair to me, and nothing more. Maybe I care more than everyone else, but I just don’t show it. It won’t do much good if I run from morning to night along the shore, shouting, disturbing others, annoying everyone.
    The duck was generally not entirely happy with her husband, but now she was completely angry:
    - Look at the others, you lazy fellow! There are our neighbors, geese or swans - it’s nice to look at them. They live in perfect harmony... Probably a swan or a goose will not abandon its nest and is always ahead of the brood. Yes, yes... But you don’t even care about the children. You only think about yourself to fill your goiter. Lazy, in a word... It’s even disgusting to look at you!
    - Don’t grumble, old woman!.. After all, I’m not saying anything that you have such an unpleasant character. Everyone has their shortcomings... It’s not my fault that the goose is a stupid bird and therefore babysits its brood. In general, my rule is not to interfere in other people's affairs. For what? Let everyone live in their own way.
    Drake loved serious reasoning, and it somehow turned out that it was he, Drake, who was always right, always smart and always better than everyone else. The duck had long been accustomed to this, but now she was worried about a very special occasion.
    - What kind of father are you? - she attacked her husband. “Fathers take care of their children, but you don’t want grass to grow!”
    -Are you talking about Gray Neck? What can I do if she can't fly? It's not my fault...
    They called their crippled daughter Gray Neck, whose wing was broken in the spring, when the Fox crept up to the brood and grabbed the duckling. The Old Duck boldly rushed at the enemy and fought off the duckling; but one wing turned out to be broken.
    “It’s scary to even think about how we’ll leave Gray Neck here alone,” repeated the Duck with tears. “Everyone will fly away, and she will be left alone.” Yes, all alone... We will fly south, to the warmth, and she, poor thing, will be freezing here... After all, she is our daughter, and how I love her, my Gray Neck! You know, old man, I’ll stay here with her for the winter together...
    - What about the other children?
    “They’re healthy, they’ll manage without me.”
    The drake always tried to hush up the conversation when it came to Gray Neck. Of course, he loved her too, but why worry in vain? Well, it will stay, well, it will freeze - it’s a pity, of course, but still nothing can be done. Finally, you need to think about other children. My wife is always worried, but we need to look at things seriously. The drake felt sorry for his wife to himself, but did not fully understand her maternal grief. It would be better if the Fox then completely ate Gray Neck - after all, she still had to die in the winter.

    No advertising banners, vending machines, drinking fountains or break rooms cluttered this simple-to-fact approach. Of course, there is no need for a bucket or scraper if your window needs to be cleaned. We had entered the rough part of the journey and our windshield was usually covered in splattered insects. No problem: Volodya took some water from our supply, sprayed the windshield several times, crushed an unfiltered cigarette in his fingers, and, using tobacco as a solvent, washed the bugs out of the glass with large swings of his hand.

    The old Duck, in view of the approaching separation, treated her crippled daughter with redoubled tenderness. The poor thing did not yet know what separation and loneliness were, and looked at others getting ready for the journey with the curiosity of a beginner. True, she sometimes felt envious that her brothers and sisters were getting ready to fly so cheerfully, that they would again be somewhere there, far, far away, where there was no winter.
    - You'll be back in the spring, won't you? - Gray Neck asked her mother.
    - Yes, yes, we’ll come back, my dear... And we’ll all live together again.
    To console Gray Sheika, who was beginning to think, her mother told her several similar cases when ducks stayed for the winter. She personally knew two such couples.
    “Somehow, dear, you’ll get through,” the old Duck reassured. “At first you’ll get bored, but then you’ll get used to it.” If it were possible to move you to a warm spring that doesn’t freeze even in winter, that would be absolutely good. It’s not far from here... However, what can I say in vain, we still can’t take you there!
    “I’ll think about you all the time...” repeated poor Gray Neck. “I’ll keep thinking: where are you, what are you doing, are you having fun?” It will be the same, and I am with you too.
    The Old Duck had to muster all her strength not to reveal her despair. She tried to appear cheerful and cried quietly from everyone. Oh, how she felt sorry for dear, poor Gray Neck... Now she hardly noticed the other children and paid no attention to them, and it seemed to her that she didn’t even love them at all.
    And how quickly time flew... There had already been a whole series of cold matinees, and the birches turned yellow and the aspen trees turned red from the frost. The water in the river darkened, and the river itself seemed larger, because the banks were bare - the coastal growth was quickly losing its foliage. The cold autumn wind tore off the dried leaves and carried them away. The sky was often covered with heavy autumn clouds, dropping fine autumn rain. In general, there was little good, and for many days already they rushed past the flock migratory bird... The swamp birds were the first to move, because the swamps were already beginning to freeze. The waterfowl stayed the longest. Gray Neck was most upset by the migration of the cranes, because they cooed so pitifully, as if they were calling her to come with them. For the first time, her heart sank from some secret premonition, and for a long time she followed with her eyes the flock of cranes flying away in the sky.
    “How good they must be,” thought Gray Neck.
    Swans, geese and ducks also began to prepare to fly away. Individual nests united into large flocks. Old and experienced birds taught the young. Every morning these young people, shouting joyfully, took long walks to strengthen their wings for the long flight. Clever leaders first trained individual parties, and then all together. There was so much screaming, youthful fun and joy... Only Gray Neck could not take part in these walks and admired them only from afar. What to do, I had to come to terms with my fate. But how she swam, how she dived! Water was everything to her.
    - We need to go... it's time! - said the old leaders. - What should we expect here?
    And time flew, flew quickly... The fateful day came. The whole flock huddled together in one living heap on the river. It was an early autumn morning, when the water was still covered in thick fog. The school of ducks consisted of three hundred pieces. All that could be heard was the quacking of the main leaders. The Old Duck did not sleep all night - it was the last night she spent with Gray Neck.
    “You stay near that bank where the spring runs into the river,” she advised. - The water there won’t freeze all winter...
    Gray Neck kept away from the school, like a stranger... Yes, everyone was so busy flying away that no one paid attention to her. The old Duck's whole heart ached, looking at poor Gray Neck. Several times she decided to herself that she would stay; but how can you stay when there are other children and you need to fly with the school?..
    - Well, touch it! - the main leader loudly commanded, and the flock rose up at once.
    Gray Neck remained alone on the river and spent a long time following the flying school with her eyes. At first everyone flew in one living heap, and then they stretched out into a regular triangle and disappeared.
    “Am I really all alone? - thought Gray Neck, bursting into tears. “It would be better if the Fox ate me then...”

    Meanwhile, Sergei removed the windshield wiper holder from the windshield wiper arm, and the windshield wiper blade moved the windshield to a dry and clean surface. One day - on Saturday - we passed five weddings during the day. In any case, many participants and guests showed up, their numbers perhaps inflated by curious passers-by. Celebrities stood on the sidewalk and along the road, clutching bottles of champagne by their necks, taking photographs of each other and shouting remarks. At the end of the day we were treated to the largest and most social wedding yet.

    The bride and groom themselves were squared off in the middle of the road, with the wedding party unfolding around them and supporting traffic in both directions. A young woman in a fancy dress came to the passenger window of our van and, talking quickly, said that we should give money to the newlyweds. Volodya handed her a few kopecks, and she said indignantly that this was not enough. He asked how much and she said: “Ten rubles, at least.”

    The river on which Gray Neck remained rolled merrily in the mountains covered with dense forest. The place was desolate, and there was no housing around. In the mornings, the water off the coast began to freeze, and in the afternoon, the glass-thin ice melted.
    “Will the whole river really freeze over?” - Gray Neck thought with horror.
    She was bored alone, and she kept thinking about her brothers and sisters who had flown away. Where are they now? Did you arrive safely? Do they remember her? There was enough time to think about everything. She also recognized loneliness. The river was empty, and life survived only in the forest, where hazel grouse whistled, squirrels and hares jumped. One day, out of boredom, Gray Neck climbed into the forest and was terribly scared when the Hare flew head over heels from under a bush.
    - Oh, how you scared me, stupid! - said the Hare, calming down a little. - My soul has sunk into my heels... And why are you hanging around here? After all, all the ducks have flown away long ago...
    - I can’t fly: The fox bit my wing when I was still very little...
    - This is the Fox for me!.. There is nothing worse than the beast. She has been getting to me for a long time... You should be careful of her, especially when the river is covered with ice. It just grabs...
    They met. The hare was as defenseless as Gray Neck, and saved his life by constant flight.
    “If I had wings like a bird, then, it seems, I wouldn’t be afraid of anyone in the world!.. Even though you don’t have wings, you know how to swim, otherwise you’ll dive into the water,” he said. “And I’m constantly trembling with fear... I have enemies all around me.” In summer you can still hide somewhere, but in winter everything is visible.
    The first snow soon fell, but the river still did not succumb to the cold. Everything that froze at night was broken by the water. The fight was not to the stomach, but to the death. The most dangerous were the clear, starry nights, when everything was quiet and there were no waves on the river. The river seemed to be falling asleep, and the cold was trying to freeze it with sleepy ice. And so it happened. It was a quiet, quiet starry night. The dark forest stood quietly on the shore, like a guard of giants. The mountains seemed higher, as they do at night. The high month bathed everything in its tremulous sparkling light. The mountain river that was seething during the day became quiet, and the cold quietly crept up on her, hugged the proud, rebellious beauty tightly and as if covered her with mirror glass. Gray Neck was in despair because only the very middle of the river, where a wide ice hole had formed, did not freeze. There was no more than fifteen fathoms of free space left to swim. Gray Neck's grief reached its final pitch when the Fox appeared on the shore - it was the same Fox who broke her wing.
    - Oh, old friend, hello! — the Fox said affectionately, stopping on the shore. - Long time no see... Congratulations on winter.
    “Please go away, I don’t want to talk to you at all,” Gray Neck answered.
    - This is for my affection! You’re good, there’s nothing to say!.. However, they say a lot of unnecessary things about me. They will do something themselves, and then blame it on me... Bye - goodbye!
    When the Fox had cleared away, the Hare hobbled over and said:
    - Be careful, Gray Neck: she will come again.
    And Gray Neck also began to be afraid, just as the Hare was afraid. The poor woman could not even admire the miracles happening around her. Real winter has already arrived. The ground was covered with a snow-white carpet. Not a single dark spot remained. Even bare birches, alders, willows and rowan trees were covered with frost, like silvery down. And spruce became even more important. They stood covered in snow, as if they were wearing an expensive, warm fur coat. Yes, it was wonderful, it was good all around; and poor Gray Neck knew only one thing, that this beauty was not for her, and trembled at the thought that her ice hole was about to freeze over and she would have nowhere to go. The fox actually came a few days later, sat down on the shore and spoke again:
    - I missed you, duck... Come out here; If you don’t want to, I’ll come to you myself. I'm not arrogant...
    And the Fox began to crawl carefully along the ice towards the ice hole. Gray Neck's heart sank. But the Fox could not get to the water itself, because the ice there was still very thin. She laid her head on her front paws, licked her lips and said:
    - How stupid you are, duck... Get out on the ice! But bye bye! I'm in a hurry about my business...
    The fox began to come every day to check if the ice hole had frozen. The coming frosts were doing their job. From the large hole there was only one window left, about a fathom in size. The ice was strong, and the Fox sat on the very edge. Poor Gray Neck dived into the water with fear, and the Fox sat and laughed at her angrily:
    - It’s okay, dive in, and I’ll eat you anyway... It’s better to come out yourself.
    The Hare saw from the shore what the Fox was doing, and was indignant with all his hare heart:
    - Oh, how shameless this Fox is... How unfortunate this Gray Neck is! The Fox will eat her...

    He found a ten-ruble bill and gave it to her. Cities came and went - Kirov, seven hundred miles from St. Both were large, gray and industrial. The scenery became hot for a while. At times the road was on ridge tops above pine forests, and beyond Permian the land reminded me of the rocky mountain slopes along Interstate 90 near Bozeman, Montana. Ural Mountains were crossed. If there was a moment when we climbed to the top of the continent-dividing range, somehow it slipped past me.

    Then almost immediately we came to Yekaterinburg, which was considered the westernmost Siberian city; here the road did one of its quick things, becoming a crowded and roaring multi-lane highway with billboards with furniture store next to it, with broken cars and extra-large piles of garbage, and stooped figures leaning into the piles with an old pen umbrella. The gloomy quality of this claim depressed Sergei's mood, but he still traveled around Yekaterinburg in search of the site. Several people simply left.

    In all likelihood, the Fox would have eaten Gray Neck when the ice hole froze completely, but it happened differently. The hare saw everything with his own slanting eyes.
    It was in the morning. The hare jumped out of his den to feed and play with other hares. The frost was healthy, and the hares warmed themselves by beating their paws against paws. Although it is cold, it is still fun.
    - Brothers, beware! - someone shouted.
    Indeed, danger was imminent. At the edge of the forest stood a hunched old man, a hunter, who crept up on skis completely silently and was looking for a hare to shoot.
    “Oh, the old woman will have a warm fur coat,” he thought, choosing the largest hare.
    He even took aim with his gun, but the hares noticed him and rushed into the forest like crazy.
    - Oh, sly ones! - the old man got angry. - Now I’m telling you... They don’t understand, you fools, that an old woman can’t go without a fur coat. She shouldn’t be cold... And you won’t deceive Akintich, no matter how much you run. Akintich will be more cunning... And the old woman punished Akintich: “Look, old man, don’t come without a fur coat!” And you sit...
    The old man set out to follow the tracks of the hares, but the hares scattered through the forest like peas. The old man was pretty exhausted, cursed the crafty hares and sat down on the river bank to rest.
    - Eh, old woman, old woman, our fur coat has run away! - he thought out loud. - Well, I’ll rest and go look for another...
    The old man is sitting, grieving, and then, lo and behold, the Fox is crawling along the river, just like a cat.
    - Hey, hey, that's the thing! - the old man was happy. “The collar is creeping up to the old woman’s fur coat... Apparently, she was thirsty, or maybe she even decided to catch fish...
    The fox actually crawled right up to the ice hole in which Gray Neck was swimming and lay down on the ice. The old man's eyes saw poorly and because of the fox the ducks did not notice.
    “We have to shoot her in such a way as not to spoil the collar,” the old man thought, taking aim at the Fox. “And that’s how the old woman will scold if the collar turns out to be full of holes... You also need your own skill everywhere, but without gear you can’t even kill a bug.”
    The old man took aim for a long time, choosing a place in the future collar. Finally a shot rang out. Through the smoke from the shot, the hunter saw something darting on the ice - and rushed as fast as he could towards the ice hole; On the way, he fell twice, and when he reached the hole, he just threw up his hands - his collar was gone, and only the frightened Gray Neck was swimming in the hole.
    - That's the thing! - the old man gasped, throwing up his hands. — For the first time I see how the Fox turned into a duck. Well, the beast is cunning.
    “Grandfather, the Fox ran away,” Gray Neck explained.
    —Run away? Here's a collar for your fur coat, old woman... What am I going to do now, huh? Well, that’s a sin... And you, stupid, why are you swimming here?
    - And I, grandfather, could not fly away with the others. One of my wings is damaged...
    - Oh, stupid, stupid... But you’ll freeze here or the Fox will eat you! Yes…
    The old man thought and thought, shook his head and decided:
    “And this is what we’ll do to you: I’ll take you away to my granddaughters.” They will be delighted... And in the spring you will give the old woman eggs and hatch ducklings. Is that what I say? That's it, stupid...
    The old man took the Gray Neck out of the wormwood and put it in his bosom. “I won’t tell the old woman anything,” he thought, heading home. “Let her fur coat and collar take a walk in the forest together.” The main thing: the granddaughters will be so happy..."
    The hares saw all this and laughed merrily. It’s okay, the old woman won’t freeze on the stove without a fur coat.

    But in the end, after much questioning, Sergei found a place. It was located on a low ridge at the edge of the city, above the railroad tracks and the Iset River. The house known as the Ipatiev House no longer stood, and the basement where the actual murders took place was filled. It reminded me of an erasure done so forcefully that it punched a hole through the page. The street next to the site is called Karl Liebknecht Street. The inscription on the pedestal read: “We go down to our knees, Russia, at the foot of the royal cross.”

    Outside of Yekaterinburg, the road passed right through grain fields like Nebraska or Iowa, and the skies behaved majestically outward and above. The whists continued to appear until the eye barely knew what to make of them - dark green tree lines converging on a distant yellow corner of fields, and the lower trunks of a birch grove black as a barcode, onto the sunny meadow behind them and glowing yellow and green vegetables in baskets along the road, and dirty trucks with only their license numbers cleared, their black diesel smoke spreading across the sky behind them.