Later, she would tell Sasha the same story again. I don’t think she realized that she was telling the same story. People always tell the same stories, even when they try to tell new stories. Stories are laid out in front of us, like objects, and over time we realize that they’re all made of the same material, a solid mass of stone and metal.
Nadia told the same story at dawn, as she and Sasha tried to cross a wide avenue. For a moment, she seemed to catch a glimpse of herself from the outside, like an image beside Sasha. They continued down the avenue, which grew wider and wider and impossible to cross.