During our student years, we loved going to Tallinn . Back then, that's how the word was spelled, with a single "n" at the end. A discounted train ticket cost three rubles one-way (or was it five? No, I think it was three), the same as a one-way taxi ride around Leningrad. And for that price, you could almost go "almost abroad," experiencing the closeness of European culture. Hang out with friends in a beer restaurant with green tablecloths and salted nuts on the menu. Stroll through a cozy and mysterious city with Gothic spires, listen to the organs in the cathedrals, stroll along Long Leg and Short Leg streets, and sit in a coffee shop, which, as in Yunna Moritz's poems, was truly located around every corner. Leningrad in those years was completely different. The last time in my “past life” I was in Tallinn was when I was no longer a student, around 1989, that is, almost a quarter of a century ago.

And so, when we finally arrived at the Tallinn port by ferry on March 10, 2013, I was very interested in comparing my memories with today's reality. The locations and names of numerous drinking establishments had changed—quite expected, it couldn't have been any other way. The city had become much more well-kept and clean—also predictable. But here's the strange thing: Old Tallinn seemed much smaller to me than the one I remembered, and this was quite surprising. So the "big trees" of childhood are some kind of psychological effect, not related to a child's height or perspective. After all, it's clear that my height and stride length in 1989 (at age 30) were no less than they are now, and I probably had more strength and energy. 

And yet, Tallinn has somehow shrunk and shriveled compared to the one I'd envisioned for a quarter of a century. It turns out that the "big trees" phenomenon isn't a childhood phenomenon at all, but rather a prolonged absence from my favorite places. Or do some "fundamental constants," the dimensions stored in memory, change with age? The longer you live and travel, the less accessible the world seems to be? After all, it's long been noted that "you subscribe to newspapers more and more often, even though it's only once a year." Perhaps this applies not only to time but also to space? I wonder if it's just me, or if anyone else has experienced something similar...