Anna Karenina 1

Strange as it may seem, he was in love with the house itself, with family, specially with the feminine portion. Konstantin Levin could not remember his mother and his only sister was much older than he was, so that for the first time he found in the house of the Shcherbatskys that charming cultivated life so peculiar to the old nobility, and of which the death of his parents had deprived him.

 I started reading Anna Karenina. It seems to be a masterpiece and a well written novel by Leo Tolstoy. I have commenced a new travel to the grey, gloomy and dark side of the world, i.e. the russian literature. I met Russian literature years ago. I have discovered their uniqueness between the lines of “The master and Margarita“. It stands out as simply one of the best books I have ever read in my life. I utterly enjoyed the magical touch of Bulgakov that has simply blurred the lines between magic and reality (magical realism, hence unbelievably real!). Then I read two other books from Bulgakov, I was already a fan of Russian writers. I was introduced to Chekhov short  stories. And that Doctor surely knew his way around human relations and contemplations. But as I have mentioned above the foggy, cold and bitter taste and atmosphere of Russian art was not exactly what I was looking for. And I could easily feel that my soul was rejecting it. Hence I stop excavating deeper into Siberian masterpieces!
Now, this is my new meeting with Russia and I shall share some quotes from the book with you.

Hommage to In search for lost times…

Reading various types of books from variety of authors, I reckon I can safely say that I have found Marcel Proust’s prose as soothing as coffee. When I started rereading it, every night I opened it and each night sip several pages from the hot meanwhile a bit bitter coffee. Unfathomable human interactions were untangled in front of my eyes by the magical power of Proust’s prose. And in that very moment, I was drenched in profound thoughts. Allow me to correct myself. I was buried under the sudden avalanche of nostalgies and bitter/sweet memories. I miss reading In search for lost time.


When are we going to grow up?
You tell me your grade/ secret/ story … and I’ll tell you mine!
Come on guys! It’s not like we are in kindergarten anymore!
You show me your winniee and [pause] I’ll show you my pee pee!
Grow up please [exasperating sigh]