Dear friends!

Bulgakov’s works are always atmospheric. Each word conveys not only information, but also a feeling. You can get this by reading Chapter III of the Notes on a Cuff below. Enjoy reading!

Chapter III. THE ICON-LAMP

The night swims. Pitch black. Can’t sleep. The icon-lamp flickers anxiously. Shots in the distance. My brain’s on fire.

Everything’s misty.

Mamma! Mamma! What we gonna do?

Slyozkin’s building something. Piling something up. Fine Arts. Photo. Lit. Dram. Scram. Sam. It’s photographic boxes. Why? ASS Lit. for the writers. Poor blighters. Dram. Ham. Ingushes gallop about on horseback, eyes flashing. Pinching the boxes. Dreadful racket. Shooting at the moon. Nurse injects my thigh with camphor. A third bout!

“Help! What’ll happen? Let me go! I must get out…”

“Be quiet, Misha dear. Be quiet!”

After the morphine the Ingushes disappear. The velvety night sways. The icon-lamp casts its divine light and sings in a crystal voice:

Ma-amma! Ma-amma!

Source: “Notes On the Cuff – And Other Stories”, Mikhail Bulgakov, translated by Alison Rise, Published December 31st 1991 by Ardis Publishers, 0875010571