Day of the Oprichnik

‘'You don't join the oprichnina. You don't choose it. It chooses you. Or, more precisely, the oprichnina pulls you in like a wave. Oh, how it pulls you in! It pulls you in so fast that your head spins, the blood in your veins boils, you see red stars. But that wave that can carry you out as well. It can carry you out in a minute, irrevocably. This is worse than death. Falling out of the oprichnina is like losing both your legs. For the rest of your life you won't be able to walk, only to crawl...''

‘'That's what it is...Russia. Since it's Russia. I lower my eyes to the floor at once. I look at the fire. And see The Idiot and Anna Karenina in flames. I have to say - they burn well. In general, books burn well. Manuscripts go like gunpowder. ‘'