Feeling distantly curious about the car, I had no any thought it could concern me. However, my eyes were fixed at the fire escape staircase leading on the roof of the building. I regretted being disobedient to Red Mistress. Moreover, my instincts told me I was in danger after talk with her.
Struggling with imperative to escape, I asked myself:
- What I am afraid of? Did I damage school property, steel money from the common safe or did I murder, harm or gave public insult to somebody? Why I must run and crawl like beast, seized with panic, if I know I am pure and innocent?
Three men in white gowns who appeared at the doors to interrupt my inner dispute. And without further explanations one of them – with sleeves turned up high above massive black-haired arms- told I must attend sort of psychological consultation instantly and drive there in ambulance car. The air this hospital attendant had did not give chance to resist or question. Escorted along corridors and downstairs I felt myself unreal. We crossed the yard, and before door of van closed behind me, I caught glimpse of yak chignon that flashed between curtains in one of school windows.
The car was moving on high speed toward secluded suburban areas of town, passed big park and arrived at barbwire-fenced territory. (more…)

Photo was made during one of manifestations in center of Vienna. The man with the dog has inscription at his shirt: “Nothing moves forward without Haider”

According to my private statistics Jörg Haider is the most frequent Google search term after words sex and nudity that direct visitors to my website. When you live in the western country and bring reminiscences about totalitarian society in broad audience you easily gain understanding and support.

Act of critical evaluation suggests unspoken comparison of what was before and what is now. It can sound like compliment in address of western democracy. Everybody would easily imagine that Galina’s soviet life was only abuse and suppression, that she was persecuted as minor progressive thinker, failed to find justice in her righteous struggle and moved to the West, where she found eventually her happy land.
However, not all is that simple (more…)

There were hordes of successful soviet ideologues, which made their career imitating fierce creative activity.
But it was not Zhanna case. She belonged to rare type of uncorrupted believers. She was person of sincerity and encyclopedia knowledge, but her eccentricity made her the scarecrow of the university. She expected from students who were fed up with Marx-Engels-Lenin staff and who studied dozens of other subjects, such as languages, world history, literary criticism, psychology and economics, she expected from them equal to hers devotion to material. In spite of all I could not help respect her.
When I was listening to her lectures on French revolution and Trotskyism, I even adored her. It was something enigmatic about this person. Her rapid walk, her gaze, how she used to throw register journal at the table in the other corner of the room, all revealed enormous suppressed force and passion.
I never accentuated her female qualities and could not dwell on idea that under formless dress she possibly had breasts and pubic hair, that as every woman she was vulnerable and perhaps had painful periods, record of aborted pregnancies and wish to be attractive for men. What I liked in her had no gender and no physiology; it was pure fascination of spirit. (more…)

Group of people in Mariahilfer Strasse, Vienna. That plump woman with hair standing on at her head looked rather funny. She addressed me with idea to get a few coins for drink
Zhanna
It was sunny spring of 1982. The university alley of apple and peach trees was all pink lace of blossoms. The air was fresh and clear. But I was ascending marble staircase of main building with monument of Great Chief at the top feeling chill in my heart.
I was first year philology student and had exam on history of communist party.
There were two sleepless nights before due to quantity of books to read, which added to feeling of emptiness inside.
The group of students gathered in corridor by the classroom where professor Zhanna – pride of Kyrgyz historical materialism and peril of neglecting freshmen was receiving exams. (more…)