Ukraine & Russia, A Toast to Mikhail Bulgakov!

“Manuscripts don’t burn.” – Мастер и Маргарита

Vlad, as Stalin welcomed a Son of Kiev will you greet me and my followers in Space, on Earth, and across Nations?

Muscovites, my fellow citizens, judge not harshly that which you know little of. What do you know as a Citizen that you don’t as a Leader?  

Citizens, as many of you are gifted with the knowledge of your motherlands’ long history and a taste for languages, I need not humor you with my little girl Russian.

I admit it’s been some time since my childhood understanding of the language attempting to read Mikhail Bulgakov’s Мастер и Маргарита, known to my English friends as The Master and Margarita, a book I was not to read.

Reminds me, and Muscovites you may appreciate a youth’s wit; Arising out of my many necessities I became the mastermind of my innovations as I move in mysterious ways.

Matias y Leticia

On occasion I tagged along with my Grandpapa on his work days. One day, he was to meet with a new client at his home. Arriving at the house we walked into the foyer. I was asked to wait in the Library as they went into the man’s office.

As soon as I entered my eyes enlarged as I was surrounded by books, books and more books. Glaring shelve to shelve, I noticed a book sticking out. It was tightly in between two others, Cien Años de Soledad by Gabriel García Márquez and The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.

In my opinion, the true pioneers are those artists who make manifest in their works the new content, the determining characteristics of life in our time. – Mikhail Sholokhov

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a miserable violin be played coming from a door near a bust of a man and a portable chalkboard. As I neared the door, the sound grew louder. Peering into the room I saw at a side view a boy standing awkwardly holding the music piece.

As the unbearable sound continued, I thought it best to catch his attention. So I banged the book in my hand against the wall.

But he was either deaf or chose to ignore my bang. I then scratched the chalkboard.  Screeech! Ahh, he turned, and the horrible sound finally stopped. I said to the boy and his instructor, this is how you’re playing that poor violin sounds like.

Clearly the boy was not deaf. When I introduced myself to both, the instructor responded cordially. But, the boy did not. When I noted his impoliteness, the instructor immediately directed the boy to respond. “Sorry, Professor but I have been told, “Never Talk to Strangers.”

In time I became friends with the boy, whose name I learned was Matias. He explained about his and his parents’ fear of talking to strangers. Poking fun at our first meeting, I shared my knowledge of Beethoven who due to his deafness found a way to communicate with others.

As Matias’ parents did not read musical composition, I designed wording that appeared as notes. I showed him how to secretly communicate through music compositions. In these musical manuscripts, I poured my secrets and deepest passions to Matias, for his eyes only.

Grandpapa grew suspicious of my sudden interest in composing music when I was never formally taught. Discovering my secret, he promised never to tell my parents.  

Later, I learned from my Grandpapa that a composer had used the same idea utilizing music for secret communications.  Nonsense, I said, this Imposter has stolen my secret! Of course, listening and dancing to his alluring waltzes, one was tempted to forgive his indiscretions.  

In time, Matias learned a little German and I a little Russian. And he was kind enough to gift me that book I borrowed, Мастер и Маргарита. Right, the Russian book that seemed out of place in between a Columbian and an Irish man. Of course, now I see the ironic relevance.

Matias became a great Maestro. But for him, I will always be Leticia the Master Composer!

“The Devil You Know”

Zelenskyy and Vlad, as I sit in my library listening to The Comedians, Op. 26 by Dmitry Kabalevsky, I ask you both when will this volatile Kraine-Russia bloody theatre be over? 

Vlad, will Muscovites beg for mercy as the “Variety audience.” Or, is this question too “Bulgakovian?” And do you prefer to listen to Dmitri Shostakovich?

Muscovites, my fellow citizens, dare sacrifice and be in Hell?  I ask you, who is the Master and who is Margarita?

Best to deal with “the devil you know” for Vengeance is not only the Lord’s.

In all history there is no war which was not hatched by the governments, the governments alone, independent of the interests of the people, to whom war is always pernicious even when successful. –Leo Tolstoy