Much that we read of Russia is imagination and desire only.
I feel like a person living on the brink of a volcano crater.
I have no objection to a man being a man, however masculine that may be.
For the first week of the Sian events I was a first aid worker in the streets of Sian.
When I was a girl, the West was still young, and the law of force, of physical force, was dominant.
No one yet knows what a man's province is, and how far that province, as conceived of today, is artificial.
What a couple. I'm consumed into ashes. And he's always raking up the ashes and setting them on fire again.
Everybody calls everybody a spy, secretly, in Russia, and everybody is under surveillance. You never feel safe.
And the woman who could win the respect of man was often the woman who could knock him down with her bare fists and sit on him until he yelled for help.