Every night we lived as if it was the last one. Everted our souls inside out, putting faces to cold neon light. We were madmen and preachers, sinners and saints. Relay seemed endless. Continuous fall relay when you can’t see the bottom.
We hurried time with every sunset and it was passing too quickly. But the dawn, its sobering cold, its empty streets, every time were drawing the line dividing our lives into equal distances. Unable to escape, knowing that you run away from what’s inside yourself.
City, the streets of which once belonged to us, now is deaf and blind. Sometimes, in the light of lanterns and the shine of wet asphalt, we still hear its voice. This is the music of memories enveloping like cigarette smoke, and sometimes filling like lead. Music of mad nights and lonely walks, unfulfilled desires and unspoken words. Nights, too cruel to be reflected in the poems and too beautiful to forget.
// artwork by Katya Mironova