Green door of the three-storey house was hanging on one hinge and leaning on an old, green of moisture, brick.
The door was colored very long time ago and looked like wrinkled skin of an old man.

The Sun never glanced at that corner of the yard: that’s why even old plaster, brickwork, benches near the door, old steps at the entrance was green. The second door looked better. It scratched with its’ rusty spring and gently flapped the rubberized door-post. One could feel the unique smell of the wet dust, which I remembered from little up.

On the first floor, behind brown door with an old and dark doorbell there live two old women – Shura and Mary. Shura is 83, Mary – 81. 15 years ago she lost her husband and became a widow. And many years ago...

And many years ago guests often were here, in this house and an old gramophone played it’s song. On the shelf above the old lather sofa there were a row of marble “lucky” elephants. There is no sofa in this room now, elephants were given out to numerous relatives. There is a cast-iron boiler in the bathroom today. Once a week, on Thursday, it’s usually stoked. Yesterday women had a “bath” and now I could feel the smell of the strawberry soap. Today is the day like the one many years ago: they are wearing their best, making a pile of fritters and welcoming guests.

I was leaving those women with my heart aching and made this shot in the end of my visit. I really don’t know if I could see them again. Evidently they had the same thoughts while standing at the window, hiding and whisking their tears away.
It was autumn. Everything told me about the coming of the winter.

Balashov, Saratov region, Russia, 2004