Seems to me all writers are bound to the earth, but the Russians, who fly.
If you’ve known me a while, you know this is one of my all time favorite passages, it’s from one of Anna Akhmatova’s letters. A paragraph that does more in 6 lines than some novels. I could read it 100 times and never tire.
What’s “happening” in the text? Anglicans would want to…
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