Death is the fairest thing in the world. No one’s ever gotten out of it. The earth takes everyone – the kind, the cruel, the sinners. Aside from that, there’s no fairness on earth.
I’m afraid of freedom, it feels like some drunk guy could show up and burn my dacha at any moment.
The mysterious Russian soul… Everyone wants to understand it. They read Dostoevsky: what’s behind that soul of theirs? Well, behind our soul there’s just more soul.
When I see a garden in flower, then I believe in God for a second. But not the rest of the time
Show me a fantasy novel about Chernobyl–there isn’t one! Because reality is more fantastic.
Instead of lullabies, my mother would sing us songs of the Revolution. Now she sings them to her grandchildren. ‘Are you nuts?’ I ask her. She replies, ‘I don’t know any other songs.
Back then everyone was saying: “We’re going to die, we’re going to die. By the year 2000, there won’t be any Belarussians left.
Many greeted the truth as an enemy. And freedom as well.
We were told that we had to win. Against whom? The atom? Physics? The universe? Victory is not an event for us, but a process.
I remembered some lines from the papers: our nuclear stations are absolutely safe, we could build one on Red Square, they’re safer than samovars. They’re like stars and we’ll “light” the whole earth with them.