For the first time i came to Moscow I could not get rid of a persistent feeling that I was like Alice in Wonderland — ate cake and declined in growth so the world around me grew to the unprecedented dimensions.
Moscow itself is a colossal city not only in width but also in height. And it’s hard to imagine that over the Stalinist skyscrapers something even more enormous can be built . But people did it and now every time entering the city it’s hard to take the eyes from the glass giants scraping the sky and stretching higher and higher like stalagmites.
I’ve always wondered why people always respond so enlightened about Peter saying that it has such an atmosphere, everybody is so creative and intellectual, they don’t even swear and refer to each other only in the best traditions of Russian nobility.
I do not know why but every time Kunstkammer in St. Petersburg is being mentioned the brain starts obtrusively give association with the concentration camp. In Russian they are very alike in pronunciation. And if the embalmed in jars freaks can fit into such associations then the rest of the exhibits are under a big question.
Museum is hundreds of little worlds nested in each other as matryoshka when on a huge picture you see hundreds of lifelines and stories.