Nothing big, nothing overpowering. Just a gentle, droning whisper in the back of your mind. What will you really change if you go to that march now, and another passing car leaves you without a leg?
While I come up an overdue update piece for this blog, here’s a conference announcement:
Please join us on March 12-13 at Columbia University for a conversation about “Kharkiv: City of Ukrainian Culture”. It is free and open to the public.
For eight years now, Russia’s oldest and arguably most noble human rights group, Memorial, has been organizing an annual commemoration event for victims of the Great Terror. The ceremony, called Return of the Names, takes place every year on October 29.
Bus number 7 was taking its time. I stood on a bus stop on Shkiperskii Protok, watching the sky for signs of rain, on my way to the Hermitage for a BBC World Service recording. An elderly lady in a purple beret stood nearby, counting change in her hand.
Longer texts tend to be more conclusive. It is just too early for that.
My experience at the March for Peace in St. Petersburg on 21 September 2014.
The shelf life of rumors is longer than their expiration date. The date passes, but no one sighs with relief. Predicted events do not take place, but in expired time, where there is no past, things cannot become the past: they do not depart and die. They get stored inside the mind as if they did happen, as facts. The number of times attacks and takeovers were heralded is the number of times they occurred. — an essay by Andrei Krasniashchikh
Looking beyond academia to how things feel.
As promised, some thoughts on recent events in Ukraine — and the transformations they have brought about.
Here are five thoughts about the things I wish I knew three or four years ago, when I started this blog and was just beginning to research my topic:
What a New Doctoral Candidate (in Britain) Might Want to Know