Some thing I wrote on my other blog you may like
During the gripping cold of January nights this year, I lost myself in Solzhenitsyn’s One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. On a June night a few months later, I’d find myself in a similar predicament. This time around, it wouldn’t be the extreme cold gripping the North-East or relentlessly nipping at the heels of of Ivan Denisovich. No matter where I turned last night whether to the poetry of Joseph Brodsky or the memories of the white piano belting at the Russian Samovar. I was overwhelmed with euphonious melodies.
To ears without any training in Russian, almost every song sounds like either the famed Katyusha song at one end of the spectrum or Dark eyes at the other. It isn’t too much of a stretch though to find the longing in both poet and song, for resolution, for love, for a home. Under the dictates of my creative…
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