There was no transport in the city, so we put on everything we could and struggled out to Mayakovskaya Street where our “miracle” was waiting for us. A smiling woman of small stature, clean, in a white apron, opened the door. We couldn’t believe it was not a dream. In the centre of a big room there was a stove with something boiling in a pan. It was soup of oilcake and millet porridge next to it. After feeding us our new acquaintance started to ask us and Misha about everything she wanted to know and told us to come again the next day.