from the Coney Island Boardwalk

I finally made it to Brighton Beach. That’s where I train’d in. Pretty much exactly like Astoria’s main streets only Russian. But I didn’t come for that, not really. Straight to the water, follow your nose. Hot sand, cold water, and the first time I’ve been able to breathe in a while.

I didn’t eat at Moscow Restaurant but at a place right next to it. A waitress outside talked me into it. And sure enough, I’d been sitting there only a little while when a man came up to me and said something in Russian, something that sounded like a question. “Sorry?” Again, Russian. I think he said, “You don’t speak Russian?” shaking his head. “Sorry, no.” Off he went nodding.

Due to my hearing problem, a lot of times when I hear a different language, at first I think it’s English and that I just can’t hear it right. (This isn’t uncommon when people speak English.) The closer the cadence is to American English (or British English), the more time it takes to realize it isn’t English.

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