Russian . . . ish

‘Here I feel myself free!’ yelled Rasputin. I spat out his hair as it streamed behind him from under his helmet. Roaring through deserted streets in the dead chill before dawn, I felt free, too, but free in a terrified kind of way: he was way over the limit. Read more

The Lion of Milan

At breakfast at a Mumbai hotel a young man glances up when the World Cup is mentioned on television. I do too. Our common interest in Read more