“კარგია გაღვიძებული ადამიანი!.. მაგრამ უფრო უკეთესია ადამიანი, რომელსაც ძილშიაც არა სძინავს, ქვეყნის უბედურობით გულ-აღტყინებულსა. ჩემო ლამაზო ქვეყანავ, არიან ამისთანანი შენში? მე მოვნახავ და, თუ ვიპოვე, ვეთაყვანები”
― მგზავრის წერილები
― მგზავრის წერილები
“Avec cent lapins on ne fabriquera jamais un cheval, avec cent soupçons on ne fabriquera jamais une preuve”
― Crime et Châtiment
― Crime et Châtiment
“ELEKTRA: If this is all you were, Orestes,
how could your memory
fill my memory,
how is it your soul fills my soul?....
Look!
You are nothing at all.
Just a crack where the light slipped through.
Oh, my child,
I thought I could save you.
I thought I could send you beyond.
But there is not beyond.
.....somewhere, I don't know where -
suddenly alone you stopped -
where death was.
You stopped.
And I would have waited
and washed you
and lifted you
up from the fire
like a whitened coal.
....Into your child's fingers I put the earth and the sky.
No mother did that for you.
No nurse.
No slave.
I. Your sister,
without letting go,
day after day, year after year,
and you my own sweet child.
But death was a wind too strong for that.
One day three people vanished.
Father. You. Me. Gone.
Now our enemies rock with laughter.
And she runs mad for joy -
that creature
in the shape of your mother -
how often you said you would come
one secret evening and cut her throat!
But our luck canceled that,
whatever luck is.
And instead my beloved,
luck sent you back to me
colder than ashes,
later than shadows.
....Oh, my love,
take me there.
Let me dwell where you are.
I am already nothing.
I am already burning.
Oh, my love, I was once part of you -
take me too!
Only void is between us.
And I see that the dead feel no pain.
(Elektra, by Sophocles)”
― An Oresteia
how could your memory
fill my memory,
how is it your soul fills my soul?....
Look!
You are nothing at all.
Just a crack where the light slipped through.
Oh, my child,
I thought I could save you.
I thought I could send you beyond.
But there is not beyond.
.....somewhere, I don't know where -
suddenly alone you stopped -
where death was.
You stopped.
And I would have waited
and washed you
and lifted you
up from the fire
like a whitened coal.
....Into your child's fingers I put the earth and the sky.
No mother did that for you.
No nurse.
No slave.
I. Your sister,
without letting go,
day after day, year after year,
and you my own sweet child.
But death was a wind too strong for that.
One day three people vanished.
Father. You. Me. Gone.
Now our enemies rock with laughter.
And she runs mad for joy -
that creature
in the shape of your mother -
how often you said you would come
one secret evening and cut her throat!
But our luck canceled that,
whatever luck is.
And instead my beloved,
luck sent you back to me
colder than ashes,
later than shadows.
....Oh, my love,
take me there.
Let me dwell where you are.
I am already nothing.
I am already burning.
Oh, my love, I was once part of you -
take me too!
Only void is between us.
And I see that the dead feel no pain.
(Elektra, by Sophocles)”
― An Oresteia
“Remember this, Anya,” Dostoyevsky told his wife on his deathbed, “I always loved you passionately and was never unfaithful to you even in my thoughts.”
― The Gambler Wife: A True Story of Love, Risk, and the Woman Who Saved Dostoyevsky
― The Gambler Wife: A True Story of Love, Risk, and the Woman Who Saved Dostoyevsky
Ses’s 2025 Year in Books
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