V. G. Korolenko called the Turukhansk Territory the “cursed land,” but those words are no less fitting for Yakutia. The vegetation here is bleak and sparse: in sheltered places from the wind you can still find stunted cedars, poplars, and crooked birches; farther north stretches like a crippled illness—a crawling birch spreading on the ground, alders, heather; beyond that begin mosses and bogs. Looking at these weak, crushed trees and shrubs that helplessly huddle to the ground, you can’t help thinking they’re trying to hide, go deeper, take cover from icy winds, and not see this “cursed land” to which cruel fate brought them. If it were up to them, they would tear knotted roots from the мерзлота and crawl south—toward warm sunshine and gentle winds. But plants are doomed to die where they were born: all they can do is bow even lower under the blows of the wind and silently wait for their fate.