How little was needed, just to leave them alone: Volodin, Petrushevskaya...
Almost the line from the "Suiside" : why don't you leave us alone?
Sometimes I think that the 1937 was more merciful; as death is freedom, when you are tortured. By false hopes, expectations, dreams...
Every time she read her new play, I saw myself ten years later -- and I every time I was losing my heart. Not, me, I won't be able to take it. Maybe indeed women can cate pain better than men. The pain, Toporov is not writing about. What help could be given, if Arbusov couldn't help? Anybody with any sense knew that she ia a talent.
No, I thought, I am too weak to take it. Perhaps, I was wrong -- and I should take it, but I said -- no, I don't have it.
And I left.
First and last time I saw Volodin, he was so drunk that could talk.
The first and last time I saw T. Williams, he was drunk and talk all the time (Columbia U.)
The last I talk to Petrushevskya (on the phone, 2004), she was simple, in peace with herself, and this call went on and on... I remeber her in Dubulty: when in pain -- sing! (she read some children play).
Володин запил (правда, он пил всегда), а Петрушевская запела.
Володин умер, а Петрушевская продолжает петь.

They suffered, Toporov keep writing.
The pain is not that bad, I guess.
http://www.chaskor.ru/p.php?id=3937

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