Surprises come in so many different shapes! In a second everything you thought you knew about yourself can be upturned and gaily mocked by the Grand Designer, who/whatever s/he/it is, while you're struggling, trembling, to copmprehend what it all means. I don't care what it means. I can't remember feeling this way for too long a time.
St Petersburg is magical. The thought of these four days fill me with hot air, lift me off the ground and leave me hovering about, feeling joyful, feeling festive, feeling actually happy!...
I wish with all my heart I would remember every bit of it as vividly as I have it in me now. The Hermitage and the sunset-tinged Neva outside its windows, surrounded by Rennaisance splendour; Nevsky prospect at night and day; the sushi bar, tense with revelations; the frosty wind on the river and my hair flying over the plastic shampagne cup; the baroque grandeur of Catherine's reign; the handsome Russian faces and their piety before the gates of the churches; my snow-sprinkled scarlet muffler in the whismical graveyard; the bridges, the souvenir vendours, the cyrillic letters everywhere, this whole breathing city full of stories and superstitions, of history, hugeness and vibrating life - it's got to be unforgettable. It all opened me up, let me out, enabled my feelings and, put very simply, made me happy.
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