“The small theatre was filled with the faces of strangers who stared up at me, as though I were the moon. They expected something…I had the power of the tides upon their sleep. I would make them speak of me after the show…I suddenly wished those spectators would all go home and leave me to cry alone. Then I would never have to march for anyone again.”
Barbara from Mme. Balashovskaya’s Apartment. Page 42.