It became really hot in the train on the route Novosibirsk - Vladivostok. Then even more hot. We went to the conductor. He sat half-naked, sweating and writing something. We asked him to turn down the oven. "I cannot do that," he said. "It’s a tradition. The carriage must be heated well so that it does not freeze at the next stop." "But it is Spring," we said. "I know," he answered. "It is hot for me too! But, you know, guys, it is a tradition so that we don’t forget in the winter." I lay down in the berth in the compartment, dripping wet and listening to the Grateful Dead.

The guilty conductor, keeper of the traditions, brought us some hot tea. Topless, he carried me back to the tea-house in Samarkand. We started to laugh long and clear.

He was telling something. I didn’t listen attentively. Something about building the hydroelectric power plant in Bratsk. Then I turned an ear to his story: " We just watched as the Enisey washed them away. They hadn’t even time to sink. Five days we threw them down thinking f**k, there are not enough pyramids.”

What did they throw down there? I thought to myself.

There were many pyramid-shaped concrete blocks prepared. They manufactured them for a long time. Many lorries and many people were there and they threw these pyramids into the Enisey river to stop it, to build a dam. But Enisey wanted to flow farther and forever. It tossed the blocks away. On the fifth sleepless day when the pyramids had almost run out there was a smell of mass execution in the air. One after another huge lorries drove at full speed to Enisey. The river didn’t want to give up. There was a wave, and a whirlpool, and a pyramid appeared out of the water. The river surrendered, stumbled and became tired. Since then the Enisey doesn’t freeze anymore.

We were showing the ONCE in Krasnoyarsk. It was one of the most powerful welcomes from an audience in the last few years. After the performance some serious and big people approached. They took me aside and asked whether I die or fall asleep at the end of the performance by the doors of Donna Flora. I wanted to turn it into joke but as I looked at the senior one I was really confused.

- I am falling asleep, said I. It was just a dream after all.
- So it is, Sergey Sanych. He is falling asleep. And you are telling me with your heavenly anguish that he is dying. Thank you, young man. My wife has burst into tears. But it is alright. Come to us again.

The land of Siberia has its own time. The sky has another height here. It is clean here. They trust you here. If you betray, there is no way to survive. It is too cold to be alone. The Heavenly Anguish.