I cannot understand how we ended up at the point where we are. When the Berlin Wall was torn down, I was 10 years old. I remember how we rejoiced; it was cooler than New Year's! Our whole family would listen to the BBC on an old receiver, and we would jump for joy, because the world was casting off its shackles, and soon freedom would reach us too. It would be possible to wear an earring and not end up in the police station for it. I remember not sleeping at night in 1996 for fear that Zyuganov would come to power—I thought he wanted to bring back the dictatorship. The first few times I voted for Putin—simply because that’s what Yeltsin said. At what moment did everything go wrong, what did we miss? Since 2014, some kind of surrealism has been happening. We tried to fix it, we posted "no to amendments," we launched paper airplanes from the window, but it was too late. My mother, with whom we rejoiced at the fall of the Berlin Wall, at 68 sincerely believes that "there are Nazis there" and that "we have no other choice." For me, "Meduza" has remained almost the only way to feel that the whole world has not, after all, gone mad. From Russia, I cannot donate. I can't even donate to Greenpeace anymore; they were "in the way." I donate to a cat shelter, at least that hasn't been forbidden to us yet, it seems. Please support "Meduza" if you can.