My grandfathers poetry..

Вот эти великолепные, пронзительные стихи, Иван Савельев – поэт, прозаик, и по-совместительству мой дедушка – посвятил мне еще в 2005 году.. Я нашла их на отрывках бумажек, и решила увековечить, пока время не стерла эти строки.



Любимой вничке Дашеньке в память о Пржевальском

Дни как соты в улье. Улей

Принимается душой.

От июня до июля,

Все Сапшо. Сапшо. Сапшо.

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Черным вспыхнула душа…

Черным вспыхнула душа —
Гематит ночной,
Стальным холодом ждала
Поезд проходной.

Он промчался мимо вдаль,
Впереди — гудок, гудок,
Темным ветром обдало,
Сердца ляпис, лепесток.

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The search for meaning

I’ve sort of been in a state of artistic melancholia lately (perhaps because of hopelessly dark hours of the year, which I’m spending behind my computer screen, sipping cold coffee). Because of my current life situation, the existential emptiness has really hit me with a triple force this time. It has never been easy going through some life altering changes, and being in between cultures, countries and jobs made it even more difficult, but the recent events of my life have avalanched like a rockslide, crumbling all at once: my family left abroad, I finished uni, moved of out my favorite town and ended up in a horrific, ghetto place, which I called “meth-lab” because of the meth guy who used to live there before me (see my other post). Writing my book for these many long months, being pretty much on my own, without a community to support me or even a desire to do anything was an up-hill battle kind of experience. I often wondered what it means to be human, how much an environment has to do with who we become, and who I am as a person. The isolation from the outer world has come with a price of continuous mental breakdowns, flip outs, depression and what not, but at least I have learned some valuable lessons in life, such as gratitude, acceptance, persistence and finally, following your dreams. I have realized that life is precious and of course, it is very fragile. It is the moments of solitude which often force us to confront our fears and worries, and after I finished uni and ended up in a vacuum of my silverfish infested flat, without going out or talking to any for days, I was suddenly confronted with this heavy as lead, horrible question, “What is the purpose of my life?”


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The soulful tea of the railroad

One of my Google Plus friends reminded me of this wonderful part of my past – having tea with sugar cubes in Russian overnight trains. For some reason tea there tasted much better than at home. This is how it feels like:

Outside the blurry window, you see the wilderness of Eurasia -birch woods interchange the dark coniferous forests, as the train flies past old villages, overgrown cemeteries, making a deep, plangent hoot. Unstoppable – that’s what you are, sitting on a maroon leather seat, looking into the distance and discerning the creeping gloom of the night in the misty haze of unbridled fields.. The conductive metal of podstakannik, the tea glass holder, burns your fingers, so you only take small sips, before placing the crystal cut glass with amber colored liquid back on the small table next to the window. “Choo-choo”, the wheels say, the fresh breeze of air that is bursting into the cabin from the open window brings the familiar scent of native grasses, as the train heads east, and the sun waves it goodbye. Kind of like this:

Picture by unknown

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Who is Stalker??

I’ve been trying hard to escape the meth infected apartment of mine, and therefore have been spending lots of time outside, particularly at the empty office at night (yes, I have become one of those people). On Sunday it was raining and thundering, and I was sitting with my wine glass all alone in the empty building, drinking my sorrows away. When the clock struck midnight, I decided to do a Tarot Card reading about a person in my life, who I call “The Stalker”, because he used to well, stalk me 😀 It’s a long, long story , so long that I’m writing a book about it, and it goes all the way back to 2007, where the whole thing started. I don’t know who the stalker is, ‘cause he’s always in the shadow, anonymously watching, but I have a very strong suspicion of who that could be.
Anyhow, I just thought I’d share this for fun, especially ‘cause I’m sure the Stalker is reading this now too…

So yeah, um… Stalker, this one is for u! U can probably recognize yourself in the cards, isn’t it amazing just how accurate this reading is?! I hope one day I will finally catch you red handed, u little bastard, and then you will no longer be an anon! Ha!

Tarot Cards

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