Sudden thunder and lightnings woke me up and I can’t fall in sleep again. And Youtube recommended Rachmaninov, which perfectly suits this rain.
Russia.. To me it means ballet, Eugene Onegin, Tchaikovsky, shiny golden haired girls at school restaurant speaking in something very foreign. I remember one of them asked me once smiling beautifully if I felt too hot in the sunny restaurant terrace because of my black hair. Then I realized we were both in the sun, yet there was huge difference between us.
The girl who asked the question happened to be one of my best friends there. And through her I had some encounters with Russian students. I met them at an isolated hotel school in the mountain. They were strong in both looks and characters: cool, calm, beautiful, and confident. They rarely smile to strangers. I liked them. Of course, how can’t I love people with names like Dmitri Hvorostovsky and Mstislav Rostropovich?
It’s pouring cats and dogs. Sleepless night with la musique slave.