![]() ![]() Mandelstam replied: ‘It’s that you’re a Marxist.’ Serge understood. Serge also recalls an evening in Moscow around 1930, when Mandelstam had seemed nervous and uneasy. This time … we recalled Osip Emilievich Mandelstam, who died in prison. Despite us, they rise up: the tomb of a generation is always present. ![]() And since I’m probably the only person to truly share this with her, our discussions are precious to us, but I nevertheless avoid touching on the numberless dead. ![]() It is grief for an era and an uncountable crowd. What gnaws at her in reality is an immense bereavement, infinitely greater than that of Lev Davidovich, which only finished her off. Serge noted that Sedova wasn’t looking well: They had been writing a joint memoir of Trotsky in it Natalia recalls her husband pacing up and down in his study at Coyoacán, engaged in heated imaginary conversation with old dead Bolsheviks, arguing about Stalin, and how and why they had been defeated by him. He had spent the morning, as he sometimes did, with Trotsky’s widow, Natalia Sedova. ![]()
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