"My mother glances at the stage and utters one word, besporyadok, disorder, which is what she says when I leave my uniform dress hanging on a chair, or when radiators in our apartment turn off on New Year’s Eve without warning, or when there is no janitor in sight to break apart a slope of ice in front of the entrance to our building."
"He had never tried to break apart anything as large as these rocks by magic, and now didn't seem a good moment to try-what if the whole tunnel caved in?"