'Later, much more later, along with Peter we went to 'Juriatina'. This is a magical place, located in the meadow near the Teremiski village. Hidden amongst the birch grove, small Siberian cottage still smells of wood. For a long time without water and electricity facilities, built with heavy hewn logs the hut reminded me of the happy times from the Pasternak novel, when Żiwago was writing his wonderful poem to Lara...

It is thirty minutes after midnight, September 14 year 1991. Peter is washing by the well, water and night play their joyful music. Not far away on the meadow passionate and amorous roars of deer resound. Roaring male happily raises his antlers, encircles the herd, every now and then engaging in a violent fight with jealous rivals. Roars come from everywhere, sometimes short, summoning, sometimes deep and throaty, but more often long, filled with strength and provoking. Sometimes I hear the dry sound of colliding antlers... The owl hoots... And inside the smell of wood and smoke, in vibrating light of kerosene lamp the wooden furniture emerges, sleeping bags lying on the bed. Everything is simple, normal, but timeless, imperishable and ... true.'