![]() Unwashed and undernourished, having spent over four days on five different trains and four military jeeps, Alexander got off at Molotov on Friday, June 19, 1942. That was a hard prayer for Alexander, but he could not imagine living in a world without Tatiana. Her standing motionless in front of three boys with knives. Her walking alongside him after burying her mother. There were some memories of last winter from which Alexander flinched, recalling them all nonetheless. Sixteen hundred kilometers of her giving her food to everyone, of her jumping up and down on the roof under German planes. Isaac’s, of her eating ice cream, of her lying in the sled as he pulled her, nearly out of life. ![]() ![]() Sixteen hundred kilometers of the Obvodnoy Canal, of coming to see her at Kirov, of his tent in Luga, of her holding on to his back, of the hospital room, of St. ![]() To go sixteen hundred miles east, across Lake Ladoga, over the Onega River and the Dvina River, over the Sukhona River and the Unzha River, to the Kama River and the Ural Mountains, to go having heard nothing for six months, for half a year, for all those minutes in between, having heard not a sound from her mouth or a word from her pen, was it lunacy?ĭuring his four-day journey to Molotov, Alexander recalled every breath he took with her. ![]()
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