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272 pages, Hardcover
First published March 16, 2015
„Akop a închis ochii, a tras adînc aer în piept și a scos din el un răcnet înfricoșător, de neîndurat... Sufletul lui Akop a atîrnat deasupra abisului rece ca o zdreanță prăpădită, apoi a zburat în jos, în gheața lui veșnică, în întunericul lui de moarte... Și deodată... s-a lăsat o tăcere absolută. Ridică-te! a poruncit un glas ce nu admitea împotrivire. Și Akop a deschis ochii” (pp.221-222).
“If only I could hurry up and die,” she sighed, shutting her eyes and giving herself up to a swirl of reminiscences. Thinking about her childhood helped pass the time more quickly.
She was seven years old when her mother passed away. Voske had started a fire in the bathhouse, bathed her daughters and put them to bed, then closed the damper on the stovepipe to hold in the heat while she was busy with them. She forgot to reopen it later and the fumes poisoned her.
“So why did you come over?” Anatolia finally regained the ability to speak.
“I brought you the scythe as a gift,” Vasily grunted, flustered. Then, annoyed at his own indecisiveness, he added angrily, “Well that, and I wanted to ask you to marry me.”
Anatolia suddenly grasped that there was no heaven and no hell; happiness was heaven and grief was hell. And their God was everywhere, all over, not just because He was all-powerful but also because He was the unseen threads that connected them with each other.
