We went to see Antony Gormley's Domain Field at Garage Center for Contemporary Culture today. At the bookstore there I asked myself what kind of book my father would've liked me to buy for him, and Auguste Rodin was the first artist who came to mind. Then I turned around and saw a two-volume Sculpture edition, published by Taschen. I leafed through volume 2, and it opened on a page with Rodin's work almost right away. On the cover of volume 1 is Nike the Winged Victory of Samothrace, my near-namesake that I'm familiar with since childhood. So we bought it. It's a sign, I'm sure, and a good one.
On July 16, two years since my father's departure, mama walked into an air-conditioned Adidas store in Kyiv, to escape the unbearable heat outside. A saleswoman came up to her and started showing the Roland Garros tennis dress collection to her. Just like that, as if she knew. Papa's last time at Roland Garros was in 2004, I guess - the year when Gaston Gaudio won the tournament and I almost turned alcoholic rooting for him from a sports bar in Kyiv. Mama took it as a sign, too, and ended up buying one dress. We'll keep it for Marta, I guess.
We love you and miss you terribly, papa. Rest in peace.