A Train to Moscow

by Elena Gorokhova

Chekhov’s Three Sisters.”

atavisms

droshky

philology

antipodes

himself—roughness stitched into beauty.

“In this life It’s not difficult to die. To make life Is more difficult by far.”

patronymic,

“Acting is freedom. It’s searching for what’s real,” she says. “Every performance is different. Together with the other actors onstage and with the audience, I search for the truth—we all do—and sometimes we almost find it. That’s the essence of acting: looking for the truth. There is nothing fake about it. There is no pretending.”

survive in the heartland of their heartless motherland.

Stalin killed as many millions of their own people as Hitler did, that their motherland

often think about how we itch to run away from home and then keep searching for it for the rest of our lives.”

Does his job require him to consider Kolya a traitor for making the decision not to return home, for questioning the sacred mercy of their motherland, for doubting the heroism and sacrifice of the war no one is allowed to doubt?

“Isn’t it ironic,” says Andrei, “that the executioner becomes the victim, and the victim becomes the executioner? Our system, if you think of it, is pure genius: executioners and victims are the same people. The engine of death has been in motion for decades, and no one is guilty, because everyone is guilty.”

“What are you running away from?” In her broken English, she knows what she will tell him, the unpracticed words that don’t require rehearsing. “From graves,” she will say. “From pretending.” He will listen carefully, even though he probably won’t understand. “From shame,” she will say.