Chapter IIAt the very least about someone else’s child, someone else’s husband, someone else’s dog, and the Sarabande for string orchestra and piano by G.F. Handel
I thought I’d calmly enter and make my way to the kitchen, but a growling from beneath the floor got in the way of me getting there. “Maybe Mayakovsky, did play the piano, who knows, but growling, that’s a bit much even for him.” I tried to calm myself down. If you think hard, you can arrive at the believable thought that for Mayakovsky it’s more natural to groan than to play music. I was stupefied. But I managed to lower my eyes. A slobbery, hairy, tongue-wagging mug was looking at me. It was a dog. He was wagging his tail and growling. “Emile?” I inquired of him just in case. He began to bark. In the meanwhile no one stopped
