Lenin's kisses

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Autumn was drawing to a close, and a faint, meager moon had risen at the edges of the harvested fields, from which emanated a fragrance that swept the world, a mixture of the warm scent of grain and the penetrating smell of earth. There he sat, bewildered, until late into the night. Finally, as if to offer apologies as deep as a well, he pinched his thigh and slapped it brutally several times before kneeling and prostrating himself three times in what was supposed to be the direction of Russia, the birthplace of the great man, repeating to himself the depth of his regret: "Forgive me, tomorrow a 'Memorandum on the Efforts to be Made in Xuanhuai Province to Collect the Necessary Resources for Obtaining Lenin's Remains' will be issued and then circulated to every committee, every office, and every province."