Читать книгу My Prison, My Home - Haleh Esfandiari - Страница 4

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Freedom is when you forget the spelling of the tyrant’s name and your mouth’s saliva is sweeter than Persian pie, and though your brain is wrung tight as the horn of a ram nothing drops from your pale-blue eyes.

—JOSEPH BRODSKY, “A PART OF SPEECH”

My Prison, My Home

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