Seventy years of fear and oppression lie heavy in his voice. He pulls away as the traffic clears. The beaten men are left to lie in the gutter where they fell. Stalinist Gothic buildings, topped with a hammer and sickle, tower rudely over crumbling Byzantine buildings. Moscow is a working class city, with working class people.
Young men spit constantly and with no apology.
The citizens are grim faced, making no eye contact. Metros by day are strangely silent. Even the children are sombre. Only the young women, like animated butterflies, bring colour and life to this bleak city. They are the antitheses of their bowed and broken Mamushkas who shuffle towards the taxis, selling onions.