A UNION OF FRIENDS UNTIL THE GRAVE
On the Great Stone Bridge — I was now always drawn there, wherever I was going — I really wanted to look at the landing on the stairs descending to the Popular Music Theater, but I walked along the opposite side of the street and stopped across from the Kremlin.
I like looking at the Kremlin, like everyone who grew up around here; to look at the Kremlin from drifting ice floes, from gallows stools, from cockpits, classrooms, office windows, sofas and cells — to look at the Spassky tower from which the Kremlin Clock chimes, at the brightest stars, at the place where the night does not fall. I looked at the Kremlin, leaning on the stone parapet; behind me walked lovers, vulnerable people, and tourists; below, dinner boats thrust themselves under the bridg
