The Physics of Sorrow

Only childhood and death. And nothing in between. Except darkness and silence.

I clearly imagine the strangled wrestlers, tossed down on the mat one next to the other, and start feeling the shortage of air, as if I’ve fallen into Harry Stoev’s hold. I rush to escape, while the crowd takes off after him. And then from somewhe

twelve years old, th

And so, I dreamed that I was awake.

dreamed that I was awake.

Then the snow would bury the little window and the room would become a den. I would curl up into a ball like a rabbit under the snow. It is so light, yet you are hidden, invisible to the others, whose footsteps crunch in the snow only inches away from you. What could be lovelier than that?

he flip-flops were something like swimsuits for feet.

When you share a single room, you can’t keep too many secrets

When you share a single room, you can’t keep too many secrets.

But stories always end in one of two ways—with a child or with death.)