Thirty years - on his way I pass by Yura’s grave again. Until recently there were a lot of wreaths on it and around it, then there were a lot of flowers. Sometimes passing cars (and the grave is clearly visible from the bridge over Setun) honked their horn. Individual bouquets are already being viewed. There are also fresh... I walk along the short road to the station. I was once robbed here. Or rather, not once, but in 1995, shortly before the parliamentary elections.

While he was alive, it seemed that our affairs were not hopeless It was simply impossible to immediately believe his death. Consciousness resisted, and it acted like anesthesia. Now the anesthesia wears off, and the pain becomes stronger and more persistent. I am writing to you again, dear “Novaya”, to find at least some consolation. In sympathy. And also because - you, that I was not allowed to say goodbye to Yura, as I wanted, on the pages of the Literaturnaya Gazeta.

— The main task of a journalist? — Taking care of your reputation This interview is a student interview, recorded in Yu.P.’s office. Shchekochikhin in the State Duma at the end of December 2002. Intended for aspiring colleagues in writing studying at the Higher School of Journalism for publication in the student newspaper of the International University in Moscow “Alma Mater”.