“I completely forgot the first three months of my life. They were erased from memory at the moment when someone’s hands - as it seemed to me at that moment, mercilessly strong - planted me on a tall birch stump that was cut down flush with the fence. Then the hands disappeared, and I was left alone in the cold fog of the early morning. It was the end of August. I didn’t know anything about winter then, but that morning smelled of dampness and cold...”