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Anton Chekhov was a Russian writer who wrote towards the very end of the 1800s and into the 1900s. I first starting reading Chekhov as part of one of my Russian literature classes and I have to admit, I really didn't like him. I was coming from the Tolstoy's and Dostoevsky's who built a story over hundreds of pages and I enjoyed all the details.

 Chekhov seemingly dropped me into a moment in time and took me back out - often with no background and no real ending. I came to love these moments in time.

So these are my Ode to Chekhov stories - the seemingly small events that shape our daily lives, the events that make us smile, and bring warmth to our hearts.


Perlou was about to be renovated and rented to someone else. It has been a bar for as long as the owner can remember, but he thought it was time to move on. That was until he got a call from two interested, young buyers who would love to use the space as a bar again. Little did they know it, they saved historic walling and paper from destruction.


Passing him on the streets you'd think he was to his next party with friends - extra piercings, hipster glasses and a track suit make him a perfect candidate for such a snap judgement. But the truth is, it is the water and the calmness that will keep him busy tonight.

In the master's hands

Angelo rolls out of bed, he looking up at the ceiling frescoes that are hundreds of years old. Another day, another opportunity to preserve something for future generations. Today's task is working on candle sticks from the 16th century, just one of many relics waiting for the master's hands.

3 AM

The alarm rings, it is 3am and Niccolo packs his bags. "There is a system, and the system must be kept" he says, as he makes the drive to La Spezia to fish. His wife isn't happy, but he hears the water calling, and he must go. 

Grandparents For Future

Green rope laid out, the crowd gathered, each finding a point where they could stand. Loud speakers blared with shouts of change, music ramped, but the crowd stayed put, each protecting their spot, getting neither too far away nor too close to the person next to them. Then, it was over.

A night at the opera

The lights kicked on, the band left the stage, but the music, oh the music. The crowd gathered, the coupled continued to sing. The crowd cheered, the coupled grew louder. In the dark nights of COVID, there are bright spots everywhere.

The whimsical clown

Click clack rolled the bag over the stones. We turned around, and, lo and behold, an elderly man was pulling toilet paper rolls out and putting them on a camera. "What are you doing with your camera?" - I asked. "I am a clown!" he answered with a laugh.

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