I didn’t realise Arkady was drunk when Zina and I first arrived at Dog Beach. We had come early; it was still mid-afternoon, on one of those oven-hot August Odessa days. I’d carried two heavy bags, including one full of cold bottled beer, down several flights of concrete steps, the shrilling of crickets from the scrubby trees along the path making it even hotter. I was sweating and wanted a swim. After quickly shaking hands with Arkady and greeting his …
Lena’s Birthday PartyRead More »
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