Berezovsky is incredibly quiet at night. Big cities can’t sleep this deeply: there’s always someone wandering the streets, cars driving past, music playing, some dogs howling.

Here, not a soul. Just endless streetlights and sleepy traffic signals. And dead silence. Not a single sound, apart from the echo of my own footsteps.

The feeling is… Strange. As though I’d ended up in, I don’t know, Silent Hill or Pripyat, rather than a small mining town.