Lot's Wife And Baba Yaga

The pity of nostalgia, the abyss of the Now, and the pathway to flow

Baba Yaga, cold-eyed bringer of destruction

A poem by Anna Akhmatova, titled “The Last Toast”:

I drink to our demolished house

To all this wickedness,

To you, our loneliness together

I raise my glass —

And to the dead-cold eyes,

The lie that has betrayed us,

The coarse, brutal world, the fact

That God has not saved us.

I get it. Boy, do I get it. Maybe this help…