It is 25 March 2011, six o’clock in the evening. Tartu's Raekoja Plats (the Town Hall Square) is covered with a blanket of white snow. I have never before experienced minus thirty degrees and I am happy with my new ski trousers, winter jacket, and warm gloves. It is hard to imagine that on a similar day sixty-two years earlier, 22,000 Estonians had been taken outside in this cold, put into cattle wagons and deported to Siberia. Today the streets are quiet, almost deserted, until a van enters the square, accompanied by groups of students, recognizable by their university caps. They start to unload 22,000 candles from the van. Bypassers stop, curious about what is about to happen. I switch on my recorder, expecting a speech or at least some public words. Instead, the students start handing out maps, pointing out the places where the candles are to be put. They also distribute lighters. The cafés on the square offer their tables and the students start to light the candles. Some elderly people arrive in the square as well, some of them are Memento members. They start to help the students. While observing what is happening, I see an older man lighting some candles on one of the tables. I help him by placing the candles on the square. We do not speak. I see other youngsters help the elderly as well.