The country I was born in, doesn’t exist anymore. But there are people, who believed in word Fatherland, in Soviet Union, people who were going to build an ideal world, where everything will be perfect and all people will be equal.
What will be our generation, where the authorities do not respect the old people, where they have to huddle in their small world, which mostly consists of the same narrow carpeted flats and «happy» memories? But maybe they are really happy? We can see them in old Soviet films, where every unwanted tear was cut out by the scissors of censorship.
In these eyes I saw strength and dignity. This is probably called the mysterious Russian soul. On one hand dances of these old people cause a quiet joy, on the other hand seem to me like a biting remembrance about the unfulfilled hope and about that little they have now.