old city old story
Moscow has met me with heavy rain, chilly weather and glamorous smirk, that sent me back to one of my depressions, like good old days... I never understood how to live here, how to keep up. It seems that while for me one minute passes, for others it's already 5 and it multiplies, while I'm living one life the others live several. While I am trying to find one word, others spill out the story of their whole life. Nobody listens. Nobody talks. It is all just a blur. And I am lost lost lost and damn alone again.