THE DACHA RESIDENT
A woman who looked like a foreigner led me through the house: “As long as I’m coming in with you, I’ll take him his medicine.” She carried a tray with vials and cups, and reminded me with mild disapproval that I was not to talk for long — as few questions as possible! I followed her through the lived-in dacha without really noticing anything; I was distracted by the tension of lying to get in and by the relief that my lies, about who I was, how I found her, and so on, had been accepted.
“Sit here,” she instructed as she bent over the great master. A monotonous susurration of bird voices wafted from the forest outside the window, while here, in the room, drops were being counted out, a particular yellow capsule was being searched for, hands covered with bruises moved fe
