Pushkin Hills, by Sergei Dovlatov

At noon we pulled into Luga. We stopped at the station square and the tour guide adjusted her tone from a lofty to an earthier one: “There to the left are the facilities…” My neighbor pricked up his ears. “You mean the restroom?” He nagged me the entire trip: “A bleaching agent, six letters? An […]

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Sergei Dovlatov

There’s a classic storyline that goes like this: a poor boy peeks through a chink in a wall on a nobleman’s estate. He sees the nobleman’s little boy riding a pony. From that moment on, his life is given over to one end—to get rich. He can no longer return to his former life. His […]

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