SUMMER WAS MEANT TO BE SQUANDERED

(This article originally appeared in Impressions of an Expat)

The snow will come any day now. You can almost smell it. Living in quarantine was already a form of Russian winter, an endless slurry of days that felt the same, some more wet some more sunny but with that enduring stamp of dread and the inevitable. Summer is meant to be squandered, I know that. When I was a boy July seemed to last for a few…