Jun 2, 2025
Excerpt from Vladimir Mayakovsky’s play The Bedbug (1929)
A mad-dog gutter-snipe opportunist indeed this Venizelos! Say it twice!
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Excerpt from Vladimir Mayakovsky’s play The Bedbug (1929)
A mad-dog gutter-snipe opportunist indeed this Venizelos! Say it twice!
All is cold, cold. All is void, void, void. All is terrible, terrible ...
Anton Chekhov (1860-1904), from “The Seagull” (1895), translated from the Russian by Marian Fell (1912) “Холодно, холодно, холодно. Пусто, пусто, пусто. Страшно, страшно, страшно.“
I am alone. Once in a hundred years my lips are opened, my voice echoes mournfully across the desert earth, and no one hears ...
Anton Chekhov (1860-1904), from “The Seagull” (1895), translated from the Russian by Marian Fell (1912) “Я одинока. Раз в сто лет я открываю уста, чтобы говорить, и мой голос звучит в этой пустоте уныло, и никто не слышит ... “
'8 Kadın' - 8 Women at Girne Chamber Theatre
The Russian play ‘8 Women,’ which received great acclaim last season, is getting ready to meet theatre lovers again. The event organized by Girne Chamber Theatre will be staged on Saturday, February 24 at 18:00 and Sunday, February 25 at 17:00. It was announced that tickets will be sold at the door, and, those who wish, can purchase tickets online from the website kibrisbiletcim.com. The ticket…
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"People say I'm two faced. It's true! To be one faced is inadequate. There are always two sides to every question and really, for life one needs a face for each side." Countess Lidia Ivanovna (Anna Karenina, 1935 movie)
It is strange somehow, we never got to know each other, and all at once for some reason—we shall never meet again. So it is with everything in the world.
Doctor Astrov, from Chekhov's play, Uncle Vanya
Where? Where has it all gone? Where is it? Oh my God, my God! I have forgotten everything, forgotten everything… Everything is confused in my head… I can't remember the word for window in Italian, or for ceiling… I am forgetting everything, I forget more every day, and life flies past and never returns, never, and we will never go to Moscow… I see now that we will never go…
Three Sisters (Anton P. Chekhov)