This memory began on the Moscow-Orenburg train. It was summer, +40. For many kilometers I observed scorched earth and black coals of vertical sticks that used to be beautiful trees. It was a terribly sad sight, especially in places where there were settlements nearby, but at the same time it was mesmerizingly beautiful.In this fusion of tragedy and beauty, there was a unique atmosphere, where one could sense the history that was once inherent in these spaces, and the power of the elements that left behind only ashes and silence.