The drive from Samara to the village of Tyagloye Ozero takes two hours. The hustle and bustle of the city quickly gives way to a green mass of forest. Slowly, the trees recede, shrinking to low-lying shrubs and then fading completely into the flatness of the Russian steppe – an immense, mute, empty space unimaginable just a short time ago. On and on and on, the sense of time dissolves into the unchanging beauty and silence of emptiness. After what seems like an eternity of evenness and expanse, some signs of settlement – a few cottages scattered here and there. Then, finally, the signboard of Tyagloye with its brooding dark lake. So remote and yet still alive. There is a kindergarten and a school, some small children chasing geese on the empty road, and the haunting call of the rooster.