Я люблю этот город, прозрачный и горько-сладкий, туманный,...

I love this city, transparent and bitterly sweet, foggy, ghostly, as if spilled a tincture of mint. It is pulled by the wind from the river, from the hazy courtyards, we happened to get used to each other again and to love each other in a new way, everything is different. He creeps under my feet with a ruggy crumb. He looks at me from a high-rise ... I light a cigarette in the front door. Behind the doorway of the porch is a city impudent and cautious. He kisses my hands, gives me flowers, pulls me to walk at night, scandals, gets angry, turns away at dawn. And I'm slowly getting used to it. He is interesting to me. For the first time. And I'm not going anywhere.