She pulls her car into the garage, leading you inside. Though her home is no mansion, the inside is elegantly decorated with all manner of fine art and antiquities. Fine Persian rugs hang on the walls, and animal skin rugs cover the floors. On many of the walls there are also paintings, many of which seem to have Ivana as their subject.
"This whole place is amazing, Ivana," you say, truly flabbergasted by the elegance of her home.
"This whole place is my entire existence," she replies, a slightly sad smile on her lips. "All these things you see carry with them a memory of my life. Each one carries a story with it of a time, a person, a place that held my heart, even if only for an instant."
She takes you by the hand, leading you into another room; her bedroom. This one is as elegantly decorated as the others in her home, a large four-poster bed dominating the room. But the art in this room is different than the others; in this room there are no paintings, only photographs and the earlier prototypes, such as daguerrotypes, a forerunner to the photo. "This is where I keep those dearest to me, my family and true friends. This is my truest sanctuary," she tells you, her voice solemn. You realize this is more a testament to her feelings for you than anything else she's said to you or shown to you, or done with you so far.
You feel it would be almost rude to not look at each photograph on the walls, to not acknowledge somehow the emotion this woman feels for her past. You begin to study the photos, trying to imagine what the people must be like, though you'll never meet them. You find yourself wishing to empathize with what Ivana has felt and still does feel about them. Ivana says nothing as you walk the room, studying each picture intently. Then you see a person you recognize, standing alongside Ivana in an old photograph. This particular one sits on her bedside table.
"Holy shit," you gasp as you pick it up, studying it closer, not sure you believe your eyes. "This is you and-"
"The one who made me," Ivana says, the bittersweet look on her face again. "The one the world knew as Rasputin."