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Breathing the right air

Nothing brings more comfort than a bag of good things to cook, swinging under your arm as you make your way home. Somehow it blots out the rest of the world. In these moments, the entire universe consists of a late afternoon sun, a stray dog and a clump of flowers growing strange and wild in a yard. A hit of basil jumps from my elbows with each swing of the bag, a gift from one of the ladies I buy from the most. I visit markets without intention, just eyes open ready to discover fresh peas, or the first corn. Knowing that these products will disappear as quickly as they present themselves creates a certain form of excitement. Each season offers up this rhythm and without it I might become completely lost.

I think of when we were in Tuscany a month ago, feeling like such a tourist until I wandered out along the highway and found the local vegetable stand. I shoved squash blossoms and tiny tomatoes into a bag, rushing back to our room like I had robbed a bank. I made pasta with them th…

Christmas card from Kurskaya

heavy weighs the crown

The First Night

Time

no post this week

rumashki

tiny movements

Cracker Jack

black on black

"None of us are Free"

rocks, coins and angels

Studencheskaya!

the taste of coins

torn

the balcony was open

колготки (tights)

Mexican blankets and clowns

a late birthday in New York

from plastic cups

сорок один (forty one)

Postcards from late summer

jholtei ghorka (the yellow slide)

хлеб (bread)

How I surrendered to Northern Italy

the midnight sun and the white crow

лица жизни (the street of life)

the electro-train from Domodedovo

a wedding

the irony of seeds

позже (later)

The Bubble Boy

leading the donkey into the metro

пертсовка (pertsovka) and the happy worker

best personal blogs
best personal blogs