Pushkin was exiled to Mikhailovskoye. In this place, the poet was once fascinated by “rural life, the Russian bathhouse, strawberries, etc.,” as he would write in one of his autobiographies. But now nothing makes him happy. The colors of the world have faded, the pen and paper are thrown into the table. What will bring the poet back to life and creativity? The beauty of the countryside, the care of a nanny, the miraculous power of a Russian bathhouse, or perhaps a meeting with a mystical mermaid...
