7 January 2009. Floating mists over blue-green pool. "Popyli tumani nad rekoi..."
Words from a song, remembered only in part, as when a Mikhail Brodsky appears in the copyshop aisle--mistaken for a moment for Robin Williams (how can there be that strange resemblance?), but with a stronger and more foreward-looking jaw, vperyod--aged a bit, as needs must, but Soviet still...
Tanya's grandfather--the writer of the song (Katyusha), in another age... now they live just up the block.
Here, Utesov, 1926, in the checkered pants (checkered career), playing a winning tough-guy from the Odessa streets. He pulls a gun--a shpaler--home-made--which on closer inspection turns out to be a dark-toned pear... The job accomplished, he takes a bite and heads off down the road...
Mu-mu... Bremerhaven, Hotel Schneider...long ago...
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