Anton Yakovlev

NEW YEAR’S EVE IS THE HARDEST By June he was done and done with politics and painting. He couldn’t care less where he’d dropped his KGB card. The shame at being blacklisted only sped up his breathing two or three...

Anton Yakovlev

1 An old man walked his black dog past a courthouse on his way toward some memory indicator. A faint bouquet barely hidden under his coat, he watched the world with anniversary eyes. They passed a dry steering wheel...