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?
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.
Last month, the municipal authorities of the city of Novosibirsk refused to grant permission for a memorial plaque to Yana (Yanka) Dyagileva.
Yanka (Russian: Янка) was one of the best-known representatives of the Siberian underground rock scene. She was born in 1966 and drowned in a river in 1991, a few months before her 25th birthday.
It was with much sadness that I learned about the passing of Grigory Pomerants (Григорий Померанц) in Moscow this past weekend. On the evening he died, as it turns out, I sat at a friend’s kitchen table and admired this extraordinary man’s 1990 collection “Открытость бездне” [Openness to the Abyss]. What a strange coincidence.
Moving this blog to a non-academic server has made its subject matter slightly more manoeuvrable. As a result, this is a post about one of the things that bring me joy – skydiving. It is dedicated to the memory of my first instructor Matthew Sarsfield (5 Oct 1977 – 27 May 2011).
“Нет тех, кто не стоит любви.” – Александр Башлачёв He is twenty years older than I. So I should really call him nothing other than Alexander Nikolaevich. And yet he is already younger than I. Which is the way he will stay forever.