Have we not huddled in bunkers, while some premonition of tomorrow hung in the air and a comrade started singing? Oh, it felt so melancholy! And it was kitsch.
Posthumous papers of a living author (ed. Penguin Group USA, 1995)
Have we not huddled in bunkers, while some premonition of tomorrow hung in the air and a comrade started singing? Oh, it felt so melancholy! And it was kitsch.
Posthumous papers of a living author (ed. Penguin Group USA, 1995)