The Unconditional Love Between a Father and Son in the Poem My Papa's Waltz by Theodore Roethke. High upon a pedestal sits a rough and ragged man. With calloused hands and skin of leather, to most he is nothing more than an ordinary laborer, but to the small eyes tracking his every move he is a king.
His response does not seem rational to us because we are used to our freedoms but for Sergei he group up with the KGB just barging into his home at anytime. Now where Sergei lives he has privacy and he doesn't want anyone to bother his privacy.
