Things are so sad I will tell you something sort of funny.
I am an imported Petersburger. I was born in a tiny town, almost a village. It was not the custom there to lock doors. People would close doors to keep out the wind and snow, but not random passersby because we should not hide from other people. On the contrary, we should be ready to help them.
So, people left the doors to their houses open.
Out of provincial habit, I kept my door in Petersburg unlocked up until this year. I have never owned anything valuable. We have always been fairly poor and, sometimes, really poor.
You wonder whether I have been robbed blind or had something stolen? I have been robbed at the hospital, in the library, and at the pediatric clinic, but I have never been robbed at home.
And so, this past spring, when the cops came to our house, beating on the door and yelling, the door was not locked. Can you imagine?
Because it did not occur to us to lock it, just as it did not occur to the cops to turn the doorknob.
So, they banged on the door, but they did not turn the knob.
I have locked the door ever since then. I am not afraid of mosquitoes, people or thieves, but I do not want the police to get in.
Photo and translation by the Russian Reader