( Going Home by Tom Roberts, 1889) Forgive me for using your name again, Nastenka. In understanding you, it requires time and full of effort. I’ve read and reread your story countless times, repeating every word. Damn it, that man described you with such depth. Maybe that’s why I feel proud when I can finally understand you, maybe. After all, Nastenka, it’s been more than a hundred years since that man immortalized your story, and more than a hundred years since he left you, truly left you, forever. So, I hope you won’t mind if I call upon your name again. Nastenka, the year has turned again. I once read on social media, though I can’t remember who wrote it, that stepping into this new year, when people start cheering, blowing trumpets, and lighting fireworks, is the moment when the distance to the year 2050 is now the same as the distance back to the year 2000. The words seem ordinary enough, but I read it with a strange feeling, Nastenka. It turns out we’ve come this far. I’m not sa...