Twenty four below and Dr. Zhivago abandons the city for the ice palace in the country. He and Lara know their time time is limited before the Bolsheviks come for them. I throw another log on the fire and stare out into the moonlit snow. Twenty four below and another million people will lose their homes this month. Zhivago and Lara enter Varekeno and find part of the old summer home where they can stay. Zhivago sees a table where he can write his poetry. He runs his finger through the dust and nods. "Yes this will do." The moon pearls the snow outside my window and the fire flickers as wars rage and banks fail. Lara and Zhivago sleep under animal skins and then he rises and lights his candle. Dr. Zhivago carefully takes out his pen and paper and slowly begins to write. He looks out the window across the Siberian landscape, seeing nothing but snow and ice under a blue moon. Wolves howl and he stares out into the darkness. We see the small candle from outside through the frosted window. The Russian Revolution has decimated the country and people live in fear for their lives. The houses around me are all dark. You don't' see people in this kind of cold, in these times, just homes belching steam. The middle class slumbers on under their increasing strain. Lara rises and touches Zhivago's shoulder as the wolves howl again. She cries out, "Oh...this is a terrible terrible time to be alive Uri..." Soon the Bolsheviks will come and they will be parted forever. Twenty four below and I slip down in front of the keyboard. The wind passes through the window as an icy hand. The wolves howl.
