lobster“My father was killed in Lubech!”

“Lubech—Lubech, that’s all you’ve been saying—Lubech,” Mother said.

True, Father did say “Lubech, Lubech” a lot on this trip. It sounded like “love” and “burning” at the same time. Kuzya and Lubasha loved playing “words.”

“In 1943, he was killed! It’s 1986! I just don’t see why I need to spend my May holidays this year bumping along these terrible roads, breaking the engine, being carsick, driving through snow and then dust and heat and running chickens and bugs—”

That was true, too. All kinds of bugs—mosquitoes, flies, some rare bugs Kuzya had never seen in Moscow.

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What happens in We, Monsters?

One woman goes down the rabbit-hole of her fantasies.

 

What are her fantasies?

Books and BDSM dungeons.

we-monsters(250x400)I WILL BECOME A DOMINATRIX

How do you cook dinner when everything seems to be devoid of sense?  How—and why—do you set the table when you know that you are going to die? [1]

“How?” I asked my cat.

She watched a pot of borscht bubbling in the sunlight-drenched kitchen and didn’t move.

A six-year-old next door was torturing the piano—as always.  Day after day after day, the kids were off to school, my husband was off to work, and I folded clean underwear, paid water bills, and rearranged the flowers—lilies or irises.  The sun touched my face and played in the sparkly curtains’ folds; a fly zoomed by the open window, lulling me toward sleep.  Everything went exactly the same as yesterday, and the day before, except for the moment when I sat down at my laptop and Googled “sex work.”