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It was blank except for one line, handwritten in blue ink, then scanned:

"The road to Russia is not a map. It is a wound that heals backward."

Alexei leaned back. He had never known this side of his father. To him, Nikolai had been a silent man who watched snow fall and drank tea without sugar. A man who fled the USSR in '79 and never once looked back. Or so Alexei thought.

He scrolled to page 162. The final page.

The entry was dated December 17, 1994.