Ah the turbulence in the love lives of Pushkin, Kafka, Fitzgerald. I don't know about the love lives of the other greats. Since I live in the very same building where Fitzgerald lived, at the time Zelda was delivering her baby, I feel at night the haunting around here. Did you ever notice the ages of Pushkin, Kafka, Fitzgerald when they disappeared. I think the beauty was in their attempts to try to capture all the turbulence. That we read them, they must have.