My hometown

(Ильмера)

опубликовано на neo-lit.com

It is hard to tell about the thing that you like most of all, more than your life. But I`ll I try. I was born and now I live in the one of the most beatiful cities in the world – Saint-Petersburg. But it is a one of the most terrifying and mysterious cities too... It is a city of Dostoevskiy, where evrybody is crazy, where yellow walls of gloomy and grave stone houses scare you, where nobody can be sure in his tomorrow day... I adore this city. Nowhere I feel such freedom and such despiration, nowhere I can talk with night and it answers me…sometimes it seems to me, that I really can see the spirits and fantoms of this old damned city. Everybody is damned here, I know it. It is a city-mystery, city-spirit, as an old legendary ship.... Only at night you can see its real face, face of skeleton and death in the black clothes, and nobody will help you then... I am afraid of it, as everybody here is, but I can`t do anything!

I adore this city of death, it makes me love him more, than myself, more, than my life...

It is a city of thousands and millions of people, every day we meet crowds of scared men and women on these gloomy streets, and they don`t know what to do, and they can`t find the sense of their useless lifes... Crowds of them, hundreds and millions.... But everybody is alone here. Nobody will hear your moan, nobody will notice your shadow in the twilight. You are absolutly alone – only you and the city...

Like a monstrous spider this city covers me with his nets... And poisons me with its magic and fantasy dreams... And sometimes it seems to me that I can`t define is there the end of this eternal nightmare , or the begining of real awful life.

It is a city of silver age, of pale poets, dark nights, the reflection of stars in the boglets of shampagne, decadance and suicide. The city of red revolution, white guardian, pale ladies and aristocratic long fingers on the guitar strings or piano keys… Millions of times I tried to tear myself away from it, to brake his power... I can`t. Nobody can. If you hear me, if you understand me – I tell you, ran, ran away, it will be too late soon!.....