Not Famous in Brooklyn
I saw Ralph Fiennes at the Cherry Orchard last night. He was with a beautiful woman. His head was shaved and he wore a cream tweed jacket and pretended he wasn't famous. Marcus said, People didn't fall in love as much.' I agreed. How could they with all those red pillows and Turkish carpets and the guy on stage strumming his guitar. On stage, someone said of a fake person "he died of champagne." Chekhov's last drink was champagne. After, I told Marcus I cried when I went back to visit my grandmother's house, in Serbia, because it was soundless and I had spent so many summers there when I was little. Once each week the barber would come by and shave my grandfather with a straight blade in front of the roses. Marcus said, That's very Chekhovian. Then I remembered to ask Marcus to tell me how evil he is, and he started to but the lights got dim.