In the Centrs shopping centre in Riga's Old Town, a small table bearing two scarlet roses and two pink freesias next to a photograph of a smiling, middle-aged woman marks the place where two bombs, probably planted by non-political criminals, exploded during rush hour last week, killing Maije Pusmucane.
Apart from a security check at the entrance and the thick, black ribbons worn by sales assistants, it was business as usual yesterday when Centrs opened for the first time since the explosions.
In Riga business as usual means that, although more than half the city's population speak Russian as their first language, not a single sign in Centrs is written in Cyrillic script. In fact, you can walk through the Latvian capital all day and you will not see a single word written in Russian, except in the newspapers read by a majority in the city.
The reason for the scarcity of Cyrillic is simple: in independent Latvia all signs are required by law to be in Latvian, and only in Latvian. The government yesterday approved the final details of a new language law that will come into effect next month, setting out clearly the areas of public life where Latvian is the only language that can be used.
After decades of Russification, when Soviet leaders settled hundreds of thousands of Russians in the Baltic state and imposed Russian as the official language, Latvians were determined on gaining independence to restore their language to the dominant position. Since 1992 the public sector has used Latvian, but the private sector has taken over ever-greater areas of Latvian life since then and the government was determined to act.
"They are animated by a fear that, left to market forces, we'll return to domination of the Russian language. There is some basis for that fear, but in a democratic society you have to leave a certain amount to market," said Mr Nils Muiznieks, director of the Latvian Centre for Human Rights and Ethnic Studies.
Government officials claim that, far from alienating the Russian minority, the language law will promote integration by encouraging everyone to speak the same language and identify with the state.
"Integration is a two-way street. It's not about them becoming us, it's about us becoming more us. It's not just about the promotion of Latvian culture. It's really about all these peoples," said Mr Janis Mazeiks, head of the Human Rights division at the Foreign Ministry.
Latvia has made significant progress in recent years in making it easier for the 42 per cent of its population who are not Latvians to become citizens. Yet almost a quarter have yet to take up citizenship and Mr Muiznieks believes that external factors could play as important a role as domestic politics in accelerating the move to citizenship.
"If Latvia has decent relations with Russia, is moving towards membership of the EU, is growing economically and is looking more European, it's much easier for Russian speakers to integrate," he said.
Despite its ethnic mix and the resentment many Latvians feel towards their former Soviet masters, there are few signs of polarisation in Latvian society.
Mr Muiznieks predicts that, if the government's language planners rein in their enthusiasm and allow people to use the language of their choice in the private sphere, relations between Latvia's ethnic groups will improve further.
"I think it would be surprising if there were no tensions. Any diverse society going through the kind of socio-economic and political change that Latvia has gone through will have tensions.
"The issue is: do you have the institutional framework for dealing with it? Do you have the international assistance, the laws, the institutions, the NGOs? Ten years ago Latvia did not and I would say that now it's got most of it in place," he said.