Wednesday 8 June 2011

Ne lublu chemodany, rasstovaniya i espresso. V dome polnyi haos, a u menya vse horosho. tolko vot mne trudno rasstovatsya. 278, Colonnades - moya kvartira v kotoruiu ya vlubilas s pervogo vzglyada s ego okna na ulicu. Segodnya gulyala v Hyde parke. Sluchaino progulyalas po Flowers walk. Dalshe byl South Kensington so vsemi svoimi Royal Albert Hall, Imperial, Royal music academy i domami iz krasnogo kirpicha, s krasivymi francuzami i francuzhenkami, s Natural History Museum kotoryi uje zakrylsya poka ya doshla, i s francuzskim posolstvom kotoryi mne ne dal vizu vo Franciu. Pozvonila horoshei znakomoi-lubitelnice tureckoi kuhni i opyat my poshli v tureckii restoran.Ona skazala chto mne idet hijab i drugoi znakomyi kotorogo ya vstretila sluchaino skazal chto mne idet platok. Na samom dele mne priyatno eto slyshat, hotya odevau ego ya ne dlya krasoty, eto byl bonusnyi pobochnyi effect. Zhal chto vy ne byli segodnya v Londone, jal esli vy byli v Londone no ne posmotreli na oblaka. Ves den nebo bylo prekrasnee, obyomnee, velichestvennee. Kak poet Zemfira: "Mne prisnilos nebo Londona, mne prisnilos dolgii pocelui". 
 Moi plan na segodnya ne udalsya - kak tolko ya doehala do Kew Gardens poshel dojd kak iz vedra. Mne prishlos pereiti na druguiu platformu i poehat obratno.
 Devushka s prekrasnoi ulybkoi s Patisserie Valerie skazala chto ne znaet skolko stoet eating in. I ya poshla domoi s vkusneishim pirojennym, kotorogo ya pozvolyau sebe posle kajdogo zabitogo gola. Moi poslednii zabityi gol - okonchanie 1-go kursa. Da, uje. Uje. Mne skoro budet 20. 
 

Sunday 15 May 2011

   It is 2:44 and I'm writing an essay. These are busy days for me with all these exams and thoughts in my head and with this decision I have to make. Yet I found this awesome blogging site for the 4th time, so decided to register eventually. My thoughts, both wise and uber-stupid, are precious to me. Most of them are got forgotten and occasionally I recall them. I recall memories of places and people and I  realise that I'm getting older. But it doesn't make me feel wiser. I still make mistakes I did in the past, I sometimes don't understand things I did before. May be it is because I don't keep records as good as I need to.
   There were some great people in my life, there were some great places I have been, colours I have seen, odours I have smelled. That is really pity I can't draw. I would love to draw his hand, her eyes and clouds of the form only I can notice. At least I should've written it down. Because I feel too many dejavus. There are no that many dejavus, but there are too many forgotten memories.
  I need to go, bye, xxx