In the Absence of Clocks

The Orange Revolution

35 The Orange Revolution Built as a sanctuary from bombs, the Kiev Metro is the deepest in the world. A long metal catheter radiates through the city— subway cars cry and shudder reckless as water. Hesitating to a stop, we close in on Schevchenko, pick up orange-clad protestors. Sparrows play in the buried sky, nest in frescoes, ignore the painted sun. At Independence Square, we dance and we drink. At Obolon, the crowds shout of poison, of faces scarred by dioxin. At Dnieper, the final stop, the last of the passengers drain out toward the river. I wait for the fluorescents to flutter. Just me, and a man shielding his baby. A boy who sleeps here because here is where he sleeps. The child coos; I wait. For the train to die. For the train to start again. ...