“I am nursing a child. I walk, I walk, I walk. In any weather. Or rather, we walk, walk, walk. The starting point is always Pushkin, who looks at me and imperceptibly nods, saying, “go ahead,” and indicates where to go. He knew a lot about roads. Today, forward along Tverskoy Boulevard, turn behind the Pushkin Theater, look into the white and gray, bell-bellied Church of St. John the Evangelist, swing on a snow-covered swing in the courtyard of a house on Bronnaya, where in May lilacs fall on your hair your purple cross-stars, through the alleys to get out to the frozen Patriarchal ponds, and then circle after circle counterclockwise, everything, as Dr. Boris Semenovich said, touching my thirty-week belly..."