Контент 14+ I used to think that memories were sort of like the old tires that piled up outside the second-hand rubber store near my childhood home in Martinsburg, West Virginia. For that matter, there was also a company that made head-stones for the graveyards of the town. It was on the other side of the lot behind our house...
Talk about memories. Tombstones -- and the blank marble shoulders … Read the rest
One summer day I packed my backpack and headed out on an ethnographic expedition. I had just passed my exams and finished my first year as a student of the Moscow Academy of Music. This annual tour involves different students every go around because only several professors are engaged yet all students must participate at least once.
Our ethnographic laboratory had been studying the Bryansk region on the … Read the rest