7 December 2010. November sun--but wait, it's December...
Whisp of pale white dry cleaner's smoke over dark roofline of 7-eleven. "V'nekotorym rodzhe..." In a certain--or uncertain--manner... Gogol's slyly interruptive assertions, from another world...
The characters on the ranchos. Estates, as it were. Manilov, Sobakeivich, Mme Korobochka... Plyushkin's garden...
Or, a theater hall in St. Petersburg. Klub Vostok (the name also from another time). Two facing lines of Russian young folks--recorded music from the Emerald Isle. Enthusiam rampant as they make their way though the dance...
A man reading, learning, they say. Words for this...
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Клуб Восток
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