“...These were her earliest childhood memories, their small apartment in Kasly, smelling of printing ink and glue, numerous stacks of books neatly stacked on the floor and a huge window that spanned the entire wall. The window looked out onto the square. She loved to sit by the window and watch. There was a church on the square. Every day coffins were carried through the square and bells rang. She sat by the window and looked at these endless rows of coffins. Her name was Larisa, she was not even three years old, but she remembered these coffins, the ringing of bells and the old white church for the rest of her life...”