this poor thing at the airport couldn't enter the toilet - thought i was a guy - that'd never prevent me from entering - the suspicious and big chinese bag reads 'happiness marries happiness, you will be high and higher' - so i wonder what was inside, which i don’t, knowing its final destination - had deep conversations with Madina from which i learnt that we never get what we want all while eating questionable pod shuboy salad, fries, sosiski, rice, and blinchiki so sguschenkoy and smetanoy [i was on fire] in inglorious and what felt like customs mafia ruled café - felt lucky once again that i’ve got such an awesome big brother, who adds to my kyrgyz vocabulary of driving swear words every time there’s a foggy weather [the ones i particularly admire nowadays are ‘mal’ and ‘katyn’ - they bring stress relief] - was an object of fun from my sister’s side - thought Kate was very cute when eating kolbasa today on scary AN-28 [was it 28 or 58?] - did my traditional night tourism, didn't eat this dish i didn’t risk to last time but will until i leave in oh so lovely Dushanbe that i finally reached!

Another sleepless night of travelling awaits.
Will challenge eyes to read, to concentrate,
And all my promises to stop, to feed, to cheer me up -
Will find their death under kilometers of stones.
Et le chauffeur, il va rester silencieux.
My nose will find itself in Yenissey,
Will play another Roma song,
And will belong.
This knowledge gained on brain infection
Will be a feast for figments of imagination.
They wake, they wait, they seek the spark
Sung as an echo in the dark.
Her fingers helplessly reach out
Only to loose the touch
With voices, smell, and warmth.
It snows above the swimming pool,
They swim - my thoughts - around the boat,
Along the three of us,
Wave back to school
Where the piano teacher
Counts, screams, and uses metronome
To organise the creature,
Cold but in and effort to warm up
To linear events
That never end,
That always haunt,
That bring them to the place of holes.
Why did she wear toxic-colour sweater?
Why did the green stay in their mind?
Relation to Shiko?
To physics?
To the little plant
They accidentally destroyed?
Unending wit -
She meant to compliment,
And did succeed.
Slopes down so steeply -
I will get nap.

Бакиев - КОЗЁЛ!

Использую цитату папы о Ленине, правда.

en route pour "beirut"

cet endroit assez mignon pourrait avoir plus de son - je l'aime bien quand même:

philosophique

genre gato negro

patriotique

loud

world

cocoony

outdoorsy

ville du soleil

genre kenya - je t'aime

that's what i've been hearing at work lately

"on your id you look like a 12-year old - you look 15 now" (when you think you're finally making progress...);
"you look like twiggy with this haircut" (if you also wonder who the hell twiggy is: http://www.twiggylawson.co.uk/ - by asking the who question you can make certain people feel old: 1:1);
"get off methadone" (referring to my creative comments);
"i think you need tranquilizers" (reffering to my proactive nature);
"you talk faster than GMS downloads" (right: the system IS slow!).

all of the above doesn't really lead to the bright idea i've got:

to form an NGO to save the trout!

my feet hurt

because of Игорь Михайлович who doesn't let me drive shoeless and has the coolest shades that he seems to have stolen from the bremen-musicians-soviet-cartoon evil guy;
because of indecisiveness of Google, who made me walk a lot and at last didn't let her buddha sister get an adorable appartment with an old piano - as, allegedly, its complete lack of cover (and her watching too much of house md) freaked her out - I was more worried about the drop-in like toilet - no lock, but i could have tried to make my peace w/ that;
because I ran forever since one melody on Leonidas (my ultraturqoise i-friend) lasted forever - yet I've got a savior who gave me martini as a birthday present and by doing so didn't let my cote francoise sagan be completely destroyed...

Глухим был голос старика -

Он не хотел со мной прощаться.

Пытливы, но грустны глаза,

А руки всё по-прежнему хотят за Дело взяться...

Его манят далёкие края,

Готов часами слушать он про них рассказы,

И где-то вдалеке горит его звезда -

Уверен он.

Жизнь не могла пройти так мимолётно,

Оставив за собой лишь смутные воспоминания -

Я не хочу стареть.