change station without any sence

If I am back? If… I feel myself hung under the transparent autumn sky here – over the warmness and gold leaves. I don’t feel like feeling. Anything. My emotions took an edge a bit. Seems I can let myself do anything – anything now as far as I don’t participate. I let myself to be hugged and to be kissed. Moscow’s beauty – in night, in the morning… I just repeat it, not feeling any word on my lips.

I really want u come back – he said. – and I will wait for it. But u. do u want to come back?
but i dont want u to wait. i want u to live.

I was standing in front of him. But I was several worlds away.

what makes u scream in the night?

i remember that evening - almost last evening in Bologna - when we were climbing up some hill over Sn Luca Monastry. - up and up - bottle of wine in my hands -
- every evening in Italy i was beautifully perfect drunk -
some steps in the beginning, then it was over, we still ran fast till...
on the top it took my breathe away.
night Bologna was like a see under our feet.
" i've never been here" - he said.
i couldn't help but laughing. not only him opened something perfect new for me0 in his own town. i did it too - and this thing drives me mad.
"teach me one russian word, - he said, when we were almost falling down to the see of lights, - come si dice n Russian - i'm happy?"
"ya schastliv"
"ya s-ch-a-stliv"... "YA SCHASTLIV!!!!!" - suddenly he screamed it out loud, louder then this night and this full moon, - YA SCHASTLIV!
i was looking at him, i was laughing, i was trembling...
YA SCHASTLIVA!!!! - i cried out loud - YA SCHASTLIVA!!!

we were staying on the top of that hill, on the top of Bologna, night, moon and our lives. we were looking at each other and screaming one so simple thing -
that we were happy.

sleep before night come

this golden autumn - the most wonderful time for my city. again and again i answer that u should see Moscow during Indian summer - short, tender, changeable, gold, full of leaves and last sky. i came back to warm hug of dark and crooked streets. i couldnt wish more. i like this last smiles on faces of people on the squares - faces fill with sun, but it's winter blood.

one step from still overcrowded street. a bunch hidded behind trees, and i was feeling like a kitten on lap, i curled myself up, i closed my eyes... in these first my evenings here again - i was sleeping lightly, covered with last warm air.

city where God lives. back.

last login - Rome, Lazio, Italy

- what u wanna say - u ve never seen San Petro?!
- no!
- u ve never seen san Petro?!
- no! that my first night in Rome!
- NEVER EVR IN UR LIFE U VE SEEN SAN PETRO IN THE NIGHT?!
- NO!!!!!!!!!!

we drived there so fast as could allow boutle of vine in my hand. we passed night Rome of Heupbeurn and Felliny. we turned the corner and suddenly...

- NEVER EVER U VE SEEN SAN PETRO IN THE NIGHT?!

Volter Sindrom

they say there is Volter sindrom. they say it when someone died. but just becouse one simple thing. he ve seen something perfect. art. paint. sculpture. anything. and this thing was so perfect that u die. immideately. may be becouse ur heart sure u ll never see anything more beautifull.

they say. i dont know.

i just know that yesterday i was crying in Verona. hanging around. watching roofs. passing arena. staying on the Juliett balcony.

one simple thing made Italy so so so so much different from Russia - sun.

tears were there half a night. and in the morning i left for Rome.

i leave near Colloseum by the way...!

Italy !

yesterday i drived to my place near Bologna at 6 am with motobike...

i fall in love!i fall in love till my toes! i wanna cry down, i wanna sing, i wanna scream, dance, run, fly, whirl, go round, drive mad....!

life is in me and around me.

one minute here chaged everything i ever wanted

было тчк будет тчк

до конца сентября

почему я не пишу?
я забросило столько всего. и не знаю, зачем это.

я столько всего расскажу. про тысячикилометровый автостоп. про ночевки в лодке. про спуски с гор. про арбузы в море. про Нижний. про мазду 6. про Казань. про ночи. про Хельсинки. про Марка и Хенрика. про здание с кучей ступенек. про паромы и каюты. про стокгольм. про капоэйру. и в Швеции и в России. про мексиканцев и вечернику всех в мире студентов. про ночи под ангелом. про дни в каяке. про небо. про гамла стан. про черно-белые фотографии. про узкие ступеньки. про людей. очень много про людей. про Питер. про автобусы. про поезда.
про неделю в москве.
про Италию.
наверно.
когда проживу ее. так же, как прожила это лето.
столько всего. столько мира. столько жизней.

жизнь либо намного сложнее, либо намного легче, чем мне кажется.