Free by Polina Klyukina

The Simferopol train and dusty wool blankets. The train conductor with her tangled black locks and her bowing-and-scraping “shh” in the phrase “Hush now, girls, hush now;” the clinking of the metal tea-glass holders. The rail-thin female convicts, puffy with drink, are crawling back home to Novosibirsk. The road consists of short stories about other […]