Posts Tagged ‘my precious home’

В уездном городе N было так много парикмахерских заведений и бюро похоронных процессий, что, казалось, жители города рождаются лишь затем, чтобы побриться, остричься, освежить голову вежеталем и сразу же умереть.


Витрина бизнеса по декорации банкетов

Общий вид на этот город



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Remember the beautiful old magnolia tree, one of the reasons I chose this apartment when looking for a new home? This one; it delighted me every spring for five years…except the last.

There wasn’t a single flower, nor a single leaf, and the owner decided to cut it down. One weekend

in August, which I spent at a friend’s mountain house in PA, the deed was done. He was

probably right to do it – the tree was most likely dead and dry – but I still feel a loss. That hole in the sky, empty air where once that was a mass, distorted proportions of everything.

September is a month of losses.


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Sunday musings

Have you noticed that potted geranium emanates fragrance from its leaves, not its flowers?

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Just my luck

Разумеется, как только я помыла окна, немедленно началась гроза – гром и молнии, ветер хлещет струями по стеклам, кондишены дребезжат и практически полу-апокалипсис
А ведь я и прогноз не забыла посмотреть, и даже планы наметила на-после-обеда, пройтись в багетную, заказать рамки для картинок. Одна – оттиск гравюры, привезённой из прошлогоднего отпуска: чесночный натюр, сербский художник, куплено в Словении. Вторая – собственный, выкопаный из закромов рисунок углем: надо же, и я когда-то могла!
Ну вот, теперь сижу-тоскую…варенье, что ли, сварить? Клубника с ревенем?

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А что вы тут делаете, а?

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[from some corner-of-the-eye TV snippet] – that sometime around 1960 Whites comprised 88% of US population. In 1990 the figure was 80%. In 2010 – 72%.

Projected for 2060 – 47%.

The woman who came up with that last figure, delivered her piece with visible delight. I thought: “how do you call a White counterpart to an Uncle Tom?”

And “if I wanted to live in a Third World country, I might have saved myself all that trouble and just stayed in miserable Russia”.

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Just saw a rather unusual cat walking thru backyards of three rowhouses. Fat, compact, with squarish head and bushy striped tail. Very relaxed, not like normal urban cats – as if it knows no danger. Ran to take my cell from the charger for a snapshot, but the cat disappeared thru a crooked plank in a white picket fence…Am I still dreaming?


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