The Independence Day of their state seemed to have scared all its members away from the Union of Artists’ dachas. Or perhaps they had just had their fill of speeches and reports and left. Two hundred of them, there had been, and none had stayed on. Marfushin informed them that, at the end of the conference, there had been a sumptuous fork buffet, after which a young sculptor decided to swim one last time in the lake and had drowned. Marfushin had also found a small group of schoolgirls were staying, with their teacher, a Distinguished, perhaps even a People’s Artist of the Russian Federation. A gala event in honour of an actor had collapsed when someone from Buryatia failed to appear. There had been no audience, and the actor had given up. Ever hopeful, Marfushin asked, “Zoya, were you a d
