The choice was made, he says, but by whom? The choice of a leader alone in command. The choice of a ghost people. The military awaits the annexation ceremony in Red Square. The purple sign that some workers are setting up enumerates the four regions that will be incorporated. Just below, followed by an exclamation point, in a more full-bodied font, the word Russia.
An area of 107 thousand square kilometers changes boundaries with a signature, a simple signature on a sheet. It makes no noise. Certainly less than the applause of an immense crowd: are they convinced? of convicts? Certainly less than the notes of a concert that celebrates the day when the so-called History forces geography. He modifies it, or he violates it. In any case, it distorts it. Without the course of rivers being deviated, nor the line of a mountain range. It is a fact of human geography. Or perhaps inhumane.