Sonetto stands under the overhead light, slowly reading aloud the words in her hands.
Sonetto: "In 1912, the poet was charged with 'insulting the highest authorities.' He was sent to Eastern Siberia, then transferred through various prisons, and eventually exiled to a solitary island."
Sonetto: "Over the next decade, he lived there in isolation ..."
Sonetto: "His poetry ... was inseparable from ... the animals on the island ..."
In the forest, Зима sits on a rock in a clearing.
A group of animals surrounds him. A small forest gathering.
Зима: ..."Believe not in the unbelievable,"
"And touch not that which is untouchable,"
A brown bear beside him places a thick paw on his arm, making the parchment in his hand wobble.
Зима: Sir, please don't touch ...
Зима: There should be no pause here. It interrupts the meter.
Зима: Ahem.
Зима: "Look not back on the path you did not take,"
"Iron wings, a warning to the hunter makes."
"Yet in his greed, he disregards it still."
On his left, a fox paws his sleeve disapprovingly.
Зима: Please behave. Wait until I'm done ...
Зима: ..."Try as he might he cannot reach his prey,"
"Futility destroys his world this day."
A sable drapes itself around his neck. It whispers in his ear.
Зима: ... Yes, you're right. The hunter is simply incorrigible.
Зима: And ... I'm afraid there are still many such people in the world.
Зима: May they reap what they sow ...
In the background of this harmonious scene, a reindeer shakes its antlers.
Her dissent nearly knocks the poet off the rock upon which he is sitting.
Зима: Ah, miss ...!
Зима: I ... ahem, ahem. I understand.
Зима: You're saying that the hunter is just trying to survive ... I ... I simply don't agree.
Зима: It is out of vanity, not hunger, that he refuses to return empty-handed.
Зима: Are there truly gems in a pigeon's belly? The branch it perches on cannot bear, um, the weight of a man ...
Зима: The hunter aims to persecute the pigeon, yet it warns him. When he falls into the snow, the snow embraces him.
Зима: Truly ... forgiving.
Зима: Yes, it reminds me of ...
Зима: "How can we not love earth more than heaven?"
Зима: Nature is the fabric of our world.
Зима: We are like potted plants ... placed amidst its great garden.
A chickadee flies from afar, landing firmly and accurately on his shoulder.
Surprise and intimacy. A pair of long-lost friends.
Зима: My friend!
Зима: You've been gone for so long. I had begun to think that you had fallen into a ... a hunter's trap.
The surrounding animals immediately become alert.
Зима: But there are no hunters here ...
Зима: Just us.
The hickadee shakes its head and chirps, displeased.
It looks desperate for the full attention of its friends.
Зима: What did you say?
Зима: Wha—
Зима: ...!
Зима: ... No, I, ahem! Ahem, ahem. I should ... go ...
The news leaves him trembling. Зима's papers scatter to the ground, but he is too hurried to pick them up.
He leaps down from the rock, puts out the fire, and disappears into the depths of the forest.
His friends, of course, follow close behind.
"According to the poet's own account, the years on the island were marked by 'bitter cold and loyal companions.'"
Sonetto: "'Many friends ...'"
By now, she has fallen into a nearby chair and is sitting in contemplation. Her gaze lingers on the file.
"These quiet years lasted at least until the mid-1920s."
"Until a human journalist from the government set foot in that land of the Far East."
