Cinetol presenteert: Borokov Borokov
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Cinetol presenteert: Borokov Borokov

“Borokov Borokov, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Bo-ro-kov: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Bo. Ro. Kov. She was Bo, plain Bo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Boro Boro in slacks. She was Roko at school. She was Korov on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Borokov Borokov.”