Eduard 82 ans, Klimentovskiy lane, Moscow

I am a satirical novelist, but before the retirement I used to work as special correspondent in Izvestia newspaper and had my own correspondence. It was unbelievably popular, loads of people wrote to us hoping to change their life patterns, no matter was it a ordinary locksmith, or renowned academician. People wrote about their uneasy living, their relationships, they needed help. Izvestia was extremely affluent broadsheet at that time - I clearly remember numberless sacks of letters coming to the editorial office. My job was to choose one letter at a time, the most significant one and come to visit the author and make an article out of our conversation.

I am working on a book about russian elderly now, I mean the way we treat our old people is just so wrong. I am not even sure how do they manage to survive in conditions like that. We owe them every single little thing we have now, they left us so much to live with and not vice versa. But what do we do to them is just terrifying.  

I do have grandchildren though and even one great-grandson, but sadly we don’t see each other a lot as they live quite far in Moscow. I don’t take walks on purpose - I grew up here close to Tretyakovskaya national gallery, these blocks and streets are my homeland, this is where I rest.