At the bus stop, the milling crowd suddenly contracts on cue as the bus pulls in. People shuffle with tiny steps toward the door, then crush aggressively through the opening. A woman in a white knit beret gets caught as the steel doors start to creak shut; hands pull on her jacket to get her far enough in for the doors to close, and the bus pulls out with a petulant puff of exhaust. The faces in the bus windows are passive, almost indifferent, as the bus carries them away.

The sun rises slowly, as though held in place by the thick chill in the air. On Lenin Square, a giant pink granite statue of the leader faces east, greeting the dawning of a new day.