Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

A Light in the Night

as if attempting to locate pockets on his naked body, pulled out the second pole, and began to walk, trying to keep to a straight course, though he knew that he would inevitably end up making a circle in this nothingness. This time he folded a finger on his left hand for every ten steps taken. Once the fingers on his left hand formed a fist and then sprung open once again, he’d fold a finger on his right. The pole he left behind quickly disappeared from view, he was surrounded by an open plain. Limbo! This was most reminiscent of Dante’s first circle of hell. – I suppose I’ll just wonder around like this, – said Ilya Ilych, adjusting the grip on his stick to be a little more comfortable. He was already getting used to talking to himself, especially considering that in recent years he had rather often found himself being his own conversation partner. He had no relations, not close ones anyway. How do they put it during funerals? Dearly beloved… Ilya Ilych had some kind of distant cousins’ grandchildren, of course, whom he’d never met in life. Probably all on high alert now, worrying about his funeral. Might have him cremated, of all things… Ilya Ilych, having reached a certain age, thought calmly about the prospect of dying someday, but the idea of cremation was unpleasant to him. Although being buried was almost equally so… -

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