Greetings, Comrades. It’s been about two years since my grandmother died. She was an amazing – rough, a bit xenophobic, but an amazing nonetheless, person who taught me that I should be more stoic, be a warrior and do my best. This is her story. A story on how a devout Lutheran managed to do crazy things in the USSR – a collection of anecdotes from her life that I wrote down when she was alive, and sort of a living memory of one of my closest people ever. I hope you’ll be happy that I share them with you. Warning: graphic content. Not in the rude way but still.

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