Terra Rasa by Anastasia Bookreyeva (audio)
Clarkesworld Magazine
Clarkesworld Magazine
4.7 • 1.2K Ratings
🗓️ 27 February 2021
⏱️ 40 minutes
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| 0:00.9 | You are listening to a Clark's World magazine podcast with your host and narrator, Kate Baker. |
| 0:07.6 | Greetings, Clark's road citizens. I hope this podcast finds you extraordinarily well. |
| 0:12.1 | This is our second story for the month of February 2021 issue 173. |
| 0:19.7 | I hope you're holding up. I hope you're okay. I hope you're warm. I hope you're safe and healthy. |
| 0:27.0 | I want to thank you for the kind email messages that you sent my way. I also want to thank you for |
| 0:32.5 | your ongoing support at the magazine. Whether this is your first or your 550th short story you've heard |
| 0:40.4 | me narrate, thank you for always being here. If you can check us a few bucks, please visit patreon.com |
| 0:50.5 | for slash Clark's world. So our second story is titled Terra Rasa. It's by Anastasia Bukriyeva. |
| 1:02.0 | It's translated by Ray Naylor. Playwright and short story writer Anastasia Bukriyeva. |
| 1:09.2 | Graduated from the Russian State Institute of Stage Arts, |
| 1:13.0 | Theater Academy in 2016, with an MA in theatrical arts. She is the winner of many literary and theatrical |
| 1:20.3 | contests. Her plays have been performed in more than 25 productions since 2016 in cities across |
| 1:26.5 | Russia, including in Moscow and St. Petersburg. Her plays and stories have also been published in |
| 1:32.6 | several anthologies. Ms. Bukriyeva is a teacher and coordinator of drama laboratories for teenagers |
| 1:40.8 | and adults. A member of the union of writers as well as the union of theater workers of Moscow. |
| 1:45.9 | She currently lives in St. Petersburg. So my dear listener, I hope you can sit back, relax, |
| 1:55.2 | and let me tell you a story. The train hurled along at such speed my ears kept popping. |
| 2:04.4 | We rushed through Voronezh. In minutes, more accurately, though, what was left of Voronezh. |
| 2:12.1 | Where there had been a river, there was an empty trough. The fire had burned away the flesh of |
| 2:16.7 | humanity here and retreated for a time. Back when trains went slower, I loved looking out the window |
| 2:22.7 | at the villages, the houses with their yellow windows, the forests and fields, boring, sure. This was my |
| 2:30.4 | country after all. I especially liked the railroad that ran along the foot of the Caucasus mountains, |
... |
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