SHHHHHHH!!! The young guards were, very loudly, making sure we didn’t make any noise going down the steps of Lenin’s Mausoleum in almost complete darkness.
El fetichismo de la mercancía was said again, this time by another country voice. Finally I got what they were saying: “the fetishism of commodities.” It was a study group, reading volume I of Capital.
You’re under no necessity to compose;
Why you should wish to publish, heaven knows.
There’s no excuse for printing tedious rot
Unless one writes for bread, as you do not.
Resist temptation, then, I beg of you;
Conceal your pastimes from the public view.
— Molière, The Misanthrope