Paul Lindstrom

“Sergeyich diluted his bitter thoughts with honey and felt better.”
― Andrey Kurkov, Grey Bees

“Well, this is their land,” the beekeeper offered timidly. “The hell it is!” the woman said indignantly, but without malice. “This land’s been Russian Orthodox since time immemorial! Russians brought Orthodoxy from Turkey, brought it to Chersonesus, back before there were any Muslims. It was later that the Turks sent in the Tatars, along with their Islam. When Putin was here, he told the whole story – this is sacred Russian land.” “Well, I haven’t looked into the history,” Sergeyich shrugged. “Who knows what happened?” “What happened is what Putin says happened,” she insisted. “Putin doesn’t lie.”
― Andrey Kurkov, Grey Bees

“The silence grew louder, more evident. One could stroke it, as one would a cat or a dog; it was warm, and it brushed up against Sergeyich gently, pleading for his involvement, his participation in its life, its sounds.”
― Andrey Kurkov, Grey Bees

“Somewhere far off a cannon sounded. Half a minute later there was another blast, which seemed to come from the opposite direction.
"Fools can't get to sleep," Sergeyich said to himself. "Probably just warming their hands.”
― Andrey Kurkov, Grey Bees