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73

Tango of Death

to listen, even straining her

eyes and pursing her lips; and

her face became so inspired

that he fell in love with her

more and more, thinking that

she, in fact, had been created

to listen spellbound to

everything he would say, that

entire heap of words, which

he was falling in love with and

which he was sinking into,

as though into a quagmire,

greedily swallowing air; and

when during those readings

she snuggled up to him and

tickled his ear with her hot

breath, he thought that the

idyll would be eternal, and

that both of them simply

were destined to be married

to each other. Feelings were

taking over common sense,

and from the moment they

married, they started to live

at Roma’s parents’ place, and

that was the beginning of the

end.

Two years of teaching and

then part-time graduate

school

boded

no

joy,

because if there wasn’t

any money, there’d be no

money, and Roma’s parents

never denied themselves

from reminding the young

couple on every occasion

that they were mooching off

them. In the evening, after

putting their little son to

bed, Yarosh, with his books

spread all over the kitchen,

was writing his dissertation

about the literature of Egypt,

Babylon, Assyria, Sumeria,

Arcanaumia, and the Hittite

Kingdom, but the deeper he

delved into the topic and

dug up sources, the more his

work seemed to be hopeless,

because certain sources

gave birth to other ones, and

those – to yet others, and

it was endless, forcing him

to get lost in the labyrinths

of different versions and

often drawing conclusions

by groping about in the dark;

though everyone, who was

working on this topic, was