Notes: in Moscow... 

Enjoying  every minute, bantering  at passing life

                   August 2000, Stoleshnikov bystreet, the downtown, Moscow, Russia.

Familiar and unknown faces appear and vanish away in the ocean of events.  I am an observer. I nod replying somebody�s salute. And my smile is addressed to nowhere. I have left the Internet Cafe, the Moscow's only. Some leisurely walk on the bystreet, that looks like any European. I drop into the �Wolford� shop at the corner. I stay there twirling near mirrors, trying on a new collection for long, and longer being stimulated by sudden torrential downpour. As the heavy rain is not going to stop and  getting worse, the only alternative left for me is a café next door, at Marriott Aurora.

Aurora  

After a conference there is pleasant and unusual fullness by men.  A female is a rarity here and any passing one gets a thick veil of rapt attention. I repose at the table with a beautiful spacious sight.   Games. Although everything at first glance is very evenly. Aloofness. Contemplation.

Somebody is much seriously focused on and went in depth of virtual reality of his tiny notebook. A close look made me chuckling � he panted on a solitaire play.

On the right there are funny interlocutors: an Italian and the Russians. An exhausted by night work young man, Mr. Bubble and Mr. Spruce. They negotiate wine delivery from Italy to Russia. Mr. Bubble proved to be a representative of a middling wine producer, or may be an owner. He hardly could comprehend the insistent wish of the Russians to change the natural ingredients of wine. The interpreter, an exhausted by night work boy, were bluntly mixing English, Italian and Russian words, that gave a cause for impressive pauses of Mr. Spruce. What kind of business! 

Some vivacity covered this small café space, I look round and it is getting obvious that the crowd was brisked up by a dapper, vigorous, well-favoured tall fellow. The power and charm applies to all. This single-eyed male could easily play a part of a gang leader, or pirate�s. Penetrating glance of the only eye scans everybody and stops on me, but not for long. I am busy and disinterested in his company. In half an hour a lovely girl come up to him. He doesn�t call her by name and do not present her to anyone by name,� just girl�. She is charming and well groomed.

Summing up:  the hall is crowded by the impudent cynical Russians and self-disciplined and bundled up foreigners who relax in own inner life space. 

       A cup of coffee was served with almonds. Time flows slowly, with every nut. Time       measurement in nuts!!! Funny�

On the second flow there is an exposition of pictures. I asked the waiter about. Polo is a club with posters. There is another restaurant with fantastic French Chief. Well, well, well, I do not like the idea to try the creation of the fantastic man, buy the way which one of the meanings of the adjective she kept in mind saying? Mythical? Fabulous? Bizarre? Outlandish? Strange? Weird? The flow of these thoughts was broken by sound of a sugar lump fallen off a table,  that drew my imagination on the way of its future. Will it dissolve in a stranger�s cup or perish courageously on cesspit�s canine jaw? Fate. Death. Immortality. �Immortality� by Kundera. This book is to be read next. To change the sensation of rich bitter taste of the Miller�s style.  "make  a piss over  your neighbours, to  stand out against these pigs  to find great favour",  that kind of style which sounds Miller's. But I do not want to keep this style in mind. "What is a relish of this indifference to style?" nonchalant. "to favour?" or the other style to use... "what favour?"I don't have any time to waste by doing things that kind and not creative! " what do you do effective?" "I do my job, and this is not your business ...... "What's business yours?"  A lot of deeds, and books to read, and things to learn,///////// I'm still on way to refresh my German and  with a promise French to learn. And the routine, of course.//////////// The way I should  pass, the time just could be over to finish deeds and kids to bring and train and raise.... How can I think of something to demolish when I am so busy by something to be done....The notes are being left on paper, life's moulds, a mould of this life, and every moment,  vanishing completely....a mysterious disappearance of a second in   twinkling of events to be neglected, I print, I form with words a cast of it, a flavour of reality around for future use by travelers thought space and time and one of them I hope I am to be to go to the past and to relish it flavour that I am now printing on the paper in words ... while I am captured,  caught unawares by heavy downpour... what else to do as not to paint  a picture of one evening which reflects many things from  the other's stories, not only mine....indeed...

Clear sound of thunder, creak of voices muffles up the music played in the hall, vibration of candlelight and almonds, hundreds of, in wait.  They are chaotically scattered, as this day events, and limited by plate as we are limited by time and sources we use up rashly.

My neighbors, trio of the boy, Mr. Bubble and Mr. Spruce are leaving. Pity, they are fanny.  

The attention of neighbors from the left side. They are  government authorities and friends of �The Pirate�. I politely and politically correctly brought down this unwelcome interest  without losing anyone's dignity. They appreciated it and stopped imposing on me.  

Heavy rain is accompanied by Zeus colour music. I am waiting and contemplating. 

Babbzy is right by saying that it is easier to live by contemplating.  I  give approving nod and adding on:  you can�t taste but may relish the life

Contemplation against the action is what?  Weakness or strength?...

"To each his own", my granny used to say.., �everything has its time and its reasons".... 

"Everything has its time", I repeated inwardly.  "Everything has its cause-and-effect relation", ok, Gera,  you  may be want to think over the other common truth to embellish? Do you remember any? Or all of them, even cardinal virtues disappeared with a terrible sclerosis of the days...