We first met at the height of the Cold War in the the lowest dive in old Moscow town. We’d both pitched up, that fate-laden night, in the basement bar under Sergei Ilyanovich’s chop shop. Hiding out and on the run, me from the KGB, him from… well, we never did finish that particular conversation…

“Твои глаза, как прозрачные бассейны искрящийся светом тысячи звезд. Ваши волосы цвета меда и ваш нежный голос, как песня небесного хора”, he said.

“спасибо”, I replied


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