this one word describe world and peace in russian. Interesting how much peace there is in the thought of staying on earth. Moving on ground is much different than flying. Somebody told me, that it is feminine thing to be the one, who is catched. Should I run away, can I fly?
Before I left home, my father told me many things. I took one for the trip and for life right now: "There is no more important thing, than being surrounded by good people." After the landing in Saint Petersburg, google told me to go direction hostel. So it was truth about the language: no way to communicate without knowledge and willing. Russians, I met, didn't speak english very well. Some try hard, similar like me - thinking european. Most: the very majority likes and support the imperator. Of course. People are important, remember. In the hostel, we booked, the girl told me in broken english, that they placed us in another hostel and gave me the address. When I asked about the location, she didn't even know, if this is still city center or what public transport leave from here. Myself went to the place, Daniil told me about. Determinate to keep the promise, to make my wish come thru, to fulfil the dream. The nights before, there were tiny like branches of a tree and bright like wings, arms holding me. Arms surrounding my weakness. The desire to get into this arms moved me. I went forward. The address was hard to find, the people didn't understand me. They are pretty radical, I felt. Either they give everything or ban any access. Finally somebody offered me help. He lead me directly to the place with big involvement and told me, that God loves me.
Who knows if God exist. My belief is smaller than grain of desert sand and this belief brought me to the place, where I asked myself first of all: what am I doing here. I e x p l o r e.
Upstairs I see people standing and smoking. One smile at me, it's Daniil. Of course. Here it is. Here we are. Here you are. All for you princess. There is some few guys, I watched in internet video with huge pleasure. One supercool, kind of boss: glasses, not much hair, gray beard, calm face like nothing we can't do, maybe 44, virtuoz on harmonica. A skinny one with broad shoulders, hair till after ears, deep blue pens with white design like jodelka and striped shirt, under this shirt another one and this arms again like a ship and shipper, wild but calming eyes, some beard and cap like an dwarf. Rosemary on his neck, braun leather shoes like school-band-leader, a double bass in this arms. Little surprise in the way his pupils get bigger and this arm on my shoulder. But none is going to take care of you, beside the one, who decide consciously and none is going to teach the father how to make children and you are not me. At least the percussion guys are easy going and totally simple. Like black and white, like drinkable water in the tap: drink without smelling and get what you need without asking. Rhythm of life, that I know shit about. I suffer, I cry, my story is not the simple one. Don't wake me up, I'm dreaming: life-streaming of dreams, watch me.
Did I miss any important thing? One. Daniil is a man to rely on, the director and main role, the moderator, initiator, father and son, sun on his face and bless on this head.
On 11.07 the flu got worster.
It's cold and rainy: maybe 16°C, but I go out half naked. First thing I've heard after opening my eyes was mailbox bombing. I wish for some coffee and cigarettes. Anger filled me and my cup got filled by coffee. I cough and sneeze. Everything I want and need, I have it. The hostel guy is tiny and walk like a fish. The girls from all around the rooms have their asses easy to access. I wish and get. It rains. Walking alone I watch monumental facades around Neva. The coldness is healthy. I put my scarf on my head and walk alone taking beauty shoots of items. Hunger leads me to an kiosk with cheep food. Pancake filed with chopped meat and cola for 158 rubles, that was the deal of the day. Tasty is something else. Who cares, I'm hungry and wont spend money. The pigeons are so fucking fat here. Other birds don't get this much, because they don't overconsume like the pigeons. Like pigs, like people. Dirty cold huge monumental city. The river is like a vein, that leads directly to the heart. And the heart is the Baltic Sea. Балтийское море Good idea - let's make an transfer to Scandinavia and Europe. Let's pretend, that we can exchange goods and make friendship with somebody from out of the empire. Don't get me wrong, I love Russians, but the system makes it bad. There is always somebody watching, because somebody needs to control this mess. Who cares about democracy - it's not our exaggeration. It's Greece, where it began, so let it end up there. Let's blame the inventors. Russia rulezz. Sure.
to be continued...