|some of my father's Kunderas|
It's Milan Kundera's birthday, of course, and that's no joke.
Happy 85th, Milan!
I consider that a rather mind-boggling anniversary that I have almost no chance of seeing, but poor Kundera must not only continue to endure, but he has to spend his last years in disguise, hoping no one recognizes him as me.
Here at L.U.S.K., we grow older and more ridiculous on a month-to-month basis. Or sometimes all at once.