As soon as I sat in a seat of the SUV, the headrest beckoned me, and as soon as the back of my head touched it, my eyes closed and my mind drifted away. Images, too disturbing to be remembered, kept pulling me out, kept opening my eyes with a panicked inhale of breath.
Then, the view of the empty city met me, the street lights throwing their yellow circles at empty roads, emptier than they ever were in a megapolis like Petersburg even at night. They mesmerised me with the lines they drew in the window and I dozed away again. The cycle repeated.
A night, a street, a lamp, a drugstore
A meaningless and dismal light
A quarter century outpours -
It’s all the same. No chance to flight.
You’d die and rise anew, begotten.
All would repeat as ever might:
The street, the icy rippled water,
The store, the lamp, the lonely night.
(с) Alexander Blok