“My name is Timur Timyanov.” Silence filled the large, empty, dimly-lit hall. Behind the low counter, he saw outlines of old-fashioned nickel-plated clothing racks, bare and splayed like autumn trees. “I came to …” Timur faltered. He’d entered this building many times before, but never from the stage door—not since he was a young child....

When Bob looked out the window, he felt like he had seen the woman passing by somewhere before. The abundant hair falling over her shoulders was going gray. She must have been in her fifties or so? Definitely older than Bob....

One The game began. He was an eleven-year-old boy named Emil. The moonlit path shone through the curtain, projecting the hazy silhouette of a window onto the floor. Replace the moon with a streetlamp, remove the lunar path, sharpen the silhouette....

One Enter the woman onto the stage, playing a grieving relative. The woman, bowing slightly, strode determinedly, step by step, along the avenue leading to the city center. The white dress she wore was a restored ancient mourning costume—the upper and lower garments were made of the coarsest raw linen....

The doors of the Silent Land are open for you; the doors of the Hidden Realm are broken down for you. The doormen extend their hands to you. The doormen rejoice at your coming and say: Enter, favored one, and live here well beloved …             — The Egyptian Book of the Dead (The Chapters of Coming Forth By Day) Ch....

“Here we have a painting by an unknown artist, created in the early months of the large-scale war. Note how its realism, painstaking detail, and contrast achieved through the interplay of lighting, matches the symbolic message of the piece—” He stood back and waited for the tour guide to usher her group along....