Tag Archives: The Shape-shifter’s Tale

Twilight, in the summer, slightly unreal. In a rowboat, on a lake. My parents’ friends have a cabin, which reminds me a little bit of a dacha in a Chekhov story, especially the banality of the conversation on the dock. … Continue reading →

  Character is revealed in action. If you fail those tests, you fail decisively. Think of the ones who stood by while their neighbors were rounded up, the ones who couldn’t see it coming and didn’t object to the rhetoric … Continue reading →

Those bedrooms stand empty, a reproach to me for the ones I couldn’t save. I could have persuaded them, if I’d known then what I know now. The English situation was deteriorating fast. When I didn’t hear from them by … Continue reading →

Can you trust a colleague more than a friend? Both will betray you. You have to watch the language of eyelids flickering, eyes averted at a crucial moment, or too-steady eye contact. As for fidgeting, it depends what their habits … Continue reading →

They say that dead men tell no tales, but I’m the one to whom they tell them. Dead men, women, children sometimes. I listen to the stories, and from certain points of view it doesn’t matter if the story happened … Continue reading →

Erika told me everything her mom had said, how things were changing in an ugly way. She knew about the burning at the university, too, and some other things, rumors and noises. “We should be really, really careful,” she said. … Continue reading →