Punky hoi

My new work is about Petersburg. Another Petersburg.

Where the ceremonial splendor is contradicted by rusty pipes and broken asphalt, where the entrance to the front is not streets, but in the third courtyard, where the facades do not amaze with splendor, but quietly crumble under the yoke of time, where Tchaikovskys symphonies are drowned out by basses from rock basements, where champagne does not flow like a river, but port wine can be bought even in the dead of night.

To love someone is to accept him completely. I love this City with everyone. Thats the whole story.