![]() ![]() Then again, this is the neighborhood where a faded metal sign off the elevated subway welcomes you to brighton beach: a whole new world!, while the majority of residents are doing their best to turn it into the old one. There's no such thing as a private conversation. This is what happens when three generations of women-and one so-genial-they-sometimes-forget-he's-in-the-room man-share a three-bedroom apartment in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. "What Balissa means," Zoe's mother, Julia, chimes in, using the portmanteau Zoe gave her great-grandmother as a baby. "Because," Zoe's great-grandmother explains, in Russian, "when love goes bad, you cannot throw it out the window." In Russian, okoshka (window) rhymes with kartoshka (potato). ![]() Her great-grandmother was very proud of this. Her great-grandmother spoke Russian-and some German. Zoe hoped her confusion was merely a language barrier. "Love is not a potato," Zoe's great-grandmother Alyssa had been telling her since before Zoe was old enough to know for certain what either word meant. ![]()
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