About nations, systems, and the people –
Volodya clasped my hand in parting, and suddenly said: ‘Isn’t it all ridiculous—I mean propaganda, war. Really I don’t understand.’ He stared at where we’d been sitting—an orphaned circle of crushed grass. ‘If only I were head of the Politburo, and you were President of America, we’d sign eternal peace at once’—he smiled sadly—‘and go mushroom-picking together!’ I never again equated the Russian system with the Russian people.