”I got Iucky.
I cIean at some
Russian prince’s house.
He’s a wonderfuI person,
a speciaIist in antiquity.
PIease come, I beg you.
Here every Russian driver
is a phiIosopher,
every garbage man, a poet.
Our eIevator man, a former coIoneI
in the ImperiaI Army once toId me,
”We’re aII co-conspirators
of the same crime. ”
Is there anyone in Russia now
who can say that about themseIves?
Yuri, Yurochka, I Iove you.
I pray for you.
I am dying without you.
PIease, come.
Rue St. Jacques, 1 0. ”
Rue St. Jacques, where’s that?
In the Latin quarter?
What are you taIking about?
You’ve gone crazy, darIing!
Take a seat and rest a bit.
Does your stomach get in the way?
What do you think?
Of course it does.
And I’m not taIking
about wood chopping.
What are you crying about, bitch?
Here, do it yourseIf.
Horseradish is the best thing.
Why are you so quiet, Doc?
I’ve never tried horseradish.
It’s the best thing for a coId.
I don’t think it’s a coId.
It’s most IikeIy a heart probIem.
I know better.
Did you earn much?
Yeah , right! My foot!
Three rubIes.
We got some vodka.
Looks good.
My granny used to do this for me
every winter.
Boy, was it coId!
Minus 30 degrees CeIsius.