Very close to Kuzomen, where the sands end and something like tundra begins, almost right on the seashore, there is a small mound with a solitary grave. Back in 1978, Bogdanova Anna either drowned or froze to death there—and was buried on this very spot. Everything as it should be in folk tradition for those who die not by their own death. From this little hill, Anna has been gazing at the White Sea—the cold Gandvik—for nearly half a century.
Here, not far from the drowned woman, we spent a magical white night. The tide left behind a large fish, which, in accordance with mystical-magical etiquette, we placed on the grave. And when we woke in the morning, the fish had already disappeared—the gift had gone into another dimension.
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