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And that’s exactly what happens. Ever since we arrived in Voronezh, there’s been this old woman hanging around under our window, yelling and screaming until someone passing by buys her some beer or vodka. She used to be quite lively, running around the neighborhood. Now she’s withered, become very small, and sits on a bench, yelling less loudly than before. Sanya would just walk past such a tiny old woman and wouldn’t even notice her.