Table of Contents Table of Contents
Previous Page  93 / 198 Next Page
Show Menu
Previous Page 93 / 198 Next Page
Page Background


Since that time, Toņa no longer dreams about owning a

salon. Or about medicine.

She doesn’t need a laboratory, a white smock and white

gloves. Nor does she need the city men who’d vie for her

attentions because of them:

– Where’re you coming from, sweetheart, the clinical


She doesn’t need the two-storey house with a garden and

flowerbeds, the kind other girls dream of; she doesn’t even

need the radio her brother wants so badly.

With the loss of her hero, Toņa became a widow. The only

thing that interests her is Pasha Angelina. The luggage

racks on long-distance trains. Armoured trains. Ocean

liners. Petrol and oil. Mittens coated with ice. Lake Baikal,

steamboats, motorboats, fishing dinghies. The Angara, the

Yenisei, the Arctic Ocean.

Toņa’s heart is frozen over like the Daugava, when it cracks

it will roar.