We woke up. Sveta immediately turned on music. We ate and, as always before a departure — commotion. Lyosha is photographing us, I’m shooting film. Sveta is finishing the experiment with the “Neptun” instrument for measuring visual acuity. Sasha is gathering his things. Before we knew it, we’d entered the Soviet comm zone. In just 4 minutes we set up the TV camera in the orbital module for a farewell broadcast. In 3 minutes we did the broadcast. We hugged, kissed, and as soon as the crew crossed into the ship, the ground issued the command to close the station hatch. It closes slowly; Lyosha and I stand looking at each other through the docking tunnel and, when only a crack remains, manage one last handshake. The station hatch is closed. The crew is in the ship; we hear them manually closing their hatch, and we’re alone again. We went to the central post and started working on the undocking. I filmed the ship’s departure on the KEI — a small TV screen. When entering shadow, the crew turned on their searchlight, and we observed them until we drifted apart.

Silence fell over the station. We didn’t even want to turn on music. I dozed a bit, then got up and went to work. We replaced the antenna-feeder unit BAF of the radio communication system.

Our plant beds in “Oasis,” “Fiton,” and “Svetoblok” are empty now. We carefully pulled the plants from the artificial soil for sending to Earth. The roots had intertwined, grown into the fabric base, and the biologists asked us to send the root system undamaged, so we carefully cut the roots with the fabric using scissors, while grains of ion-exchange resins scattered like millet and hung in the air. Then we wrapped the plants in cloths moistened with water and packed them in cellophane. During the TV broadcast we said that it’s very hard without our garden. A sadness crept into our hearts. It was so pleasant to care for them.

Now we watched a wonderful video about our families, made by Zhenya Kobzev. It was like visiting home. On another cassette we met our instructors and colleagues. I want to sleep.

I glanced out the porthole and witnessed a grand spectacle spanning the entire continent. We were flying over America at sunset from west to east, entering the gigantic star tunnel of the planet’s shadow. The Sun hung as a fiery ball on the horizon while for the ocean it was already night — a violet abyss. America, igniting in multicolored lights of cities, highways, and airfields, sparkled with illumination blending civilization and nature. The Great Lakes, the Mississippi at its tributaries’ intersections, all the waters of the continent simultaneously glittered. In a silver rain of glints, in colored garlands of cities, with the fanciful tracery of mountain folds, river branches, meadows and fields — such was America. The continent came alive, speaking the language of light. My breath was taken away by the beauty.

The station is quiet, dreary. Today we began mothballing for the redocking. The comm operator said Lyusya called — she and Vitalik are in Pitsunda and will arrive August 31. Tomorrow is a hard day — the redocking.