Andrzej Stasiuk's great book about the East: a summation of his travels and writings, laid down in an epic flow, with captivatingly told episodes and epiphanies. He travels from Poland through Russia to China and reflects on his life, the tangle of paths and routes, where a childhood dream intersects with the sense of happiness he experiences in the Gobi Desert. What is this East, this realm of wonders that continually draws Andrzej Stasiuk in? This continuum, whose tremors can be felt from Kamchatka to the Elbe. Eastern Poland, the homeland from which his parents were expelled? The East known as Soviet communism, whose presence had contaminated the society in which he grew up? East - this could be a quintessence of the book - is not a cardinal direction, but the promise of a dimension beyond the horrors of the past.