But even the thought of-what’s his name? – immortality
there is a thought of solitude, my friend.
Conversation with the celestial
When I was seven years old, and a large bag of chips in Moscow cost only six and a half rubles, far away in the West, a poet with the biblical name Joseph, not very well known at home, died. Brodsky, of course, did not manage to live up to the moment when every schoolchild would know about it. Continue reading