23 January 2013

slippery, sweet, sleep thoughts

I am filled with daydreams. My city is filled with them. They cascade down the white hills of parks and pause just for a moment at a castle surrounded by snow-encrusted pine trees, just to break away and fly through the buildings that have stood and seen so much power and pain and fear and honor. Every where I go, every place my hand falls has a history deeper than I can ever know is touched. It is inspiring and quieting all at the same time.


As I wander shyly through streets that have no voice that I can yet understand, I am left with my own thoughts, my own wonderings. I am curious, I am so curious. My heart aches to hit pause on it all and ask everyone I see questions and photograph their coats and write down all the interesting things they say. I am fascinated and impatient and I know that with time I will be able to know this city, but it comes with time. We are in the beginning of a romance and for now, I watch from afar.


Never have I been in a place so loud or so big. Never have I been left with so much quiet around me. I am more aware of my voice and it's foreign sounds when I speak to B on the Metro. I am the strange one.









There are miles and miles to go before I sleep. 

The true cold air has a taste, one that I love and welcome across my teeth. I am finding comfort in the smells of foreign cigarette smoke and piles of snow. It is all small, but I am learning the details of Moscow and Moscow is learning the details of me. 


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