“Voices and songs resonated in my mind, returning and repeating, all the psalms, the way they sang, all wishes, things spoken and silent, wondrous people, bizarre situations, – what did I care for their struggles, their attempts at confrontation and resistance; what did they care for my problems, my escape and hideouts. At any rate, we travel our own routes and end up in unknown places, penetrating beyond the scenes of our experience, while voices and touches of those we’ve met remain in our memory. Even if I never leave this train, even if I stay on this bunk for all eternity, trapped and forgotten, no one will take away my recollections of things I’ve been through – which makes it not all that bad.”


(Piece of Zhadan’s “Voroshylovhrad” in my imperfect translation at 3:40 am. I’ve also tried to tackle one of his interviews.)



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