“…this is not Blok, and today they will bury—not Blok…”

On August tenth, a day remarkably clear and blindingly bright, as many participants noted in their memoirs, Blok’s body, in a white coffin, was carried down the dark, winding staircase from his apartment on the second floor of 57 Ofitserskaya. Zamiatin, one of Blok’s pallbearers, writes that, in this final moment, Blok’s face—“This foreign, elongated face with a sharp beard, resembling Don Quixote. And it is easier that this is not Blok, and today they will bury—not Blok.” Bely notes Lyubov Dmitrievna’s long farewell with Blok after the service for the dead, and describes how he and Volynsky decided to carry the coffin at the head: “during [the services for the dead] Volynsky calls me over and says: ‘Let’s carry [the coffin] together, at the head!’”

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