And yet eternally memorable,
And in the sea there is tender-iced
And unsalt water.
On the bottom—sand whiter than chalk
And air as drunk as wine,
And the pink mass of the pines
Laid bare in the sunset hour.
The sunset itself in ethereal waves
Is such that I cannot tell
If this is the end of the day or of the world,
Or the secret of secrets is within me again.
-Anna Akhmatova
After the Hermitage Alisa and I wandered over to the Akhmatova museum. It was a little tricky finding it, which meant we ended up walking in some alleys and stuff.
The museum was ok, and I had been hoping to see a recreation of Brodsky’s apartment, but it was closed. Grr. We met this really nice Russian woman who spoke very little English. She tried to talk to us and show us around this exhibit about the Petersburg poets and the turn of the century artistic scene—basically trying to explain to us all the love intrigues that were going on “She like him, but he liked her, and then he liked her step daughter, and then she fell in love with this other woman, and it turned out he was homosexual…” Yeah, that’s pretty much how it went. So here are a couple of pics. The museum itself wasn’t really that exciting…
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