April 18, 2007. Walk this morning, with Alyosha. Beautiful clear sky, one small cloud far to the west. Everything luminous. He takes his time up the hill, rolling on available plots of grass, rubbing his back under a rhododendron branch. Older man in light-colored clothing: "That's a handsome dog." Understanding every tongue, Alyosha gives him a nudge. Years before: spring in Tyumen'. Billboard mural on side of gray apartment block, bleak water-stained concrete. Young woman in red, holding an armful of golden roses. Petals? Pages? Tortilla chips? "Lyublu tebya moya Tyumen'." High-voltage power stanchion to her left, leaning a bit. Gray sky. Rainy street, mud-filled lot surrounding a single anonymous kafé. Reddish mansard roof, symmetrical windows, all horizontal, off-the-shelf, and a triangular sign with narrow white border just over the door. Single palm tree against orange-yellow sunset. In the rain. Girl in foreground, holding what look to be ice creams--one in either hand. Dark clothes, smiling. Her face from afar, somewhere along the Silk Road...
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