[b]Svetlana Alexievich
The soul will fly home of its own accord, but shipping a coffin is pretty expensive.[/b]
The second part for sure.
I don’t like the word “hero.” There are no heroes in war. As soon as someone picks up a weapon, they can no longer be good. They won’t be able to.
Unless they’re killing Nazis of course.
At that time my notions of nuclear power were utterly idyllic. At school and at the university we’d been taught that this was a magical factory that made “energy out of nothing,” where people in white robes sat and pushed buttons.
Cue Chernobyl.
My life has always been like a change jar. It’s full, then it’s empty, then it’s full again, then it’s empty again.
And then the time it is either half full or half empty.
Yur Karyakin once wrote: ‘We should not judge a man’s life by his perception of himself. Such a perception may be tragically inadequate.’ And I read something in Kafka to the effect that man was irretrievably lost within himself.
Obviously: Yes.
I’m afraid of freedom, it feels like some drunk guy could show up and burn my dacha at any moment.
Maybe even Putin himself.