Entry 18: From Russia Without Love

"There is no love," Natalya Mikhailovna proclaims today on a particularly cold morning over a breakfast of soggy bread and baloney-like 'sausage' -- "Only habit." I've just brought over a long letter I plan on sending to Maddie (my fourth, although one envelope also had a postcard I had written earlier). "In vain," the embittered fifty-something divorcee continues sententiously, "You'll just fall out of love. Live a bit longer, you'll find out." "Well, I don't want to find out. I prefer to believe in something, at least... In love." "I've lived long enough not to believe in anything anymore," Natalya Mikhailovna declares resolutely. So it goes in Siberia... I've enjoyed my time here, but I wouldn't want to stick around too much longer. People don't age well, and, besides, I want nothing more than to be getting back to my Maddie as soon as possible, Russia be damned!