Epilogue: Luria's Psychological Symphony

A finely worked bronze dog has been standing on my desk for twenty years now. Aside from the books with their dedicatory signatures, it is the only material thing I have in memory of Aleksandr Romanovich Luria. A week after he died, Lana Pimenovna, his wife, asked if I could drop in to see her. I thought that the reason for her call—to ask me to enlarge, reproduce, and frame some photos she had made of Aleksandr Romanovich in various years during his lifetime—was only a pretext: the publisher's in-house photographer or any other photographer could have done this.