stars-shinebright

Leningrad: December, 1961 The streets were empty, snow was falling softly, I was walking alone with my thoughts. It was cold that day, even for winter, a light wind was blowing and I found myself very  grateful for my coat and gloves, as I knew so many of my people were without them. I was supposed to be making my rounds on patrol, looking for any dissent, but I wasn't paying attention to the few people out that evening. I had spent many nights like this over the last few years. That particular night, my mind was on my brother, Vitali. I had come to view him, who I had once been close with, with contempt, I couldn't help but feel a sense of

I keep wondering if I made a mistake, but between the tic-tacs, the staples and the sticky tape, I don't think I can keep putting myself together, not even for you. You're so tempermental in your everything, fading out to black, falling and falling, you keep pulling me under, old strings to tie up loose ends; it's all a game for your pin-up friends, isn't it? I kept thinking I could fix things, if I took out one more piece of glass - took out one more lump of clay and pushed them deep inside of me, but change doesn't save - does it? I thought that the hole was because I was empty, and I took in everything, made it all my own.