“Like a bird on the wire, Like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried in my way to be free”
Quoting the beloved, Leonard Cohen seemed like the most appropriate and smoothest way to begin our talk. You’ll also find that his presence in this work of fiction is not only used musically but metaphorically as well, I would like to say almost as a foreshadowing or as an irony, -as enigmatic as it sounds, it’s really worth solving by yourself-.
As you from crimes would pardoned be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
He exits. – epilogue, The Tempest
*note; these are obviously the greek editions
September has ended and he (because September is definitely a “he”) took with him a great deal of literature, Russian literature to be exact! Like it was expected I have no complaints, Dostoevsky and Pushkin did keep me great company in those rainy and dark nights in my bed.
Having some Tchaikovsky in the background (**here she hints to you that you have to listen his “Eugene Onegin” opera**) and the unexpected sun keeping me this time company, I’m struggling to write this very review. Like every other book, I get too emotional and academically driven. You may excuse my endless ramblings and parenthesizes. Now, actually meaning it, let’s get into the deep void of Russian books!