em branco e preto

heart beats scattered across russia. things insane in a blaze fast of summer cold and white nights. train from st. petersburg that swings with underground wind currents to moscow that sinks in its sundry gloom in perfect recall of sao paulo. dirt and chaos covered roads and packed food markets, busy lives, signals, queues, anger and stress.

this is the farthest away i have ever been from home and the closest foreign match to the city of my heart. this is the seat of the kremlin and halls underground bedecked with chandeliers. the sun is to never set in a town like this.