20. Joy of All Who Sorrow
Всех скорбящих Радость
‘I’m afraid everything’s closing, Tony,’ I said. ‘We should have started earlier. Or I should’ve met you earlier.’
We were fast approaching Brighton Beach Avenue’s end — or start, coming from Coney Island. The little that was left to see of the street was emptying of its life. Its inhabitants and their commerce in souvenirs and Soviet soul food were disappearing. I knew Brighton Beach to close early, but this particular End of Business felt sudden. Brighton had deserted me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but the street had suddenly emptied to such an astounding degree that it felt as though all of the neighbourhood was in on it. All of a sudden, they had all decided to get lost.
A line of an old song called زوروني - Zourouni - Visit Me cam
