He forgets words, mixes up the names of his daughter and granddaughter. Maybe it’s not that important—what matters is a different name: the name of the girl he met in Germany in 1941, and then lost forever. Wandering through the labyrinths of memory, he tries to find her—and himself—again. He studies old photographs: his native Veliky Novgorod, the sky, and the trees. One day he leaves the house, continuing to photograph things, because that’s the only way he can somehow hold on to the slipping reality. His granddaughter searches for him—they have a big journey, one that only the two of them can share. The new novel by Alexandra Shalashova is a piercing reflection on love for three women, and how, in the dimness creeping toward dementia, to remain yourself. Because you are you, as long as even in complete darkness you still remember what your name is.