“Yan put on a thick, baggy padded jacket, threw a raincoat on top and put his feet in kirzachi. Slouching, he moved towards the exit. He turned around at the door and saw Zina, her chin resting on her fists, sitting at the chipped kitchen table and silently crying. Ian looked at her for a long time, without blinking. He was silent. There was nothing to say, there were no right words left for a long time. Yes, and what words can there be..."