We met exactly a year ago. I knew the impression he made on women—and on some men, too. He is handsome like Kasyanov, smart like Chubais, a little flirtatious—somewhere half Nemtsov, no more, but at the same time courageous like Shoigu. And there is no such tie in the entire Russian government, and even in the government, and in the Kremlin, no one has such. Here he came up, looked with a squint, affectionately and attentively—Lenin!—neatly and somehow very intimately shook hands.
