Heart of Moscow (From the Archives)

This is the proverbial heart of Moscow.

You can even see the Kremlin looming in the background. I could wander here for hours.

Blueprints of these streets—both the old, narrow, winding, covered with cobble stone and broad, multi-lane highways—exist semi-consciously in my mind or, perhaps, on a more primal, physical level.  I walk and walk these streets somewhere at the intersection of sight and disjointed memories: I've been here before, and I'll be here again. 

You know, I think I'm really liking this self-imposed archival section of the blog. Not only does it allow me to reevaluate my previous work, but also to discover certain aesthetically pleasing photographs that have been hiding in my files!

From the Archives

Some days, I miss my hometown more than others, especially when I don't know exactly when I'd be able to visit next. This bout of nostalgia prompted me to dig up a number of yet-to-be-edited photographs, and here we are. Posting images of the Kremlin might seem a bit contrived, but no less beautiful, at the same time, particularly at night.

Placebo

Perhaps, I am getting a tad predictable in my old age.

After all, as I had tasted my coffee diluted with cold autumn rain on another interchangeable cloudy, stormy, gray evening on the way home, I've naturally gravitated toward posting sun-kissed onion domes of the Ivan the Great Bell Tower.

And a place that I always miss. Sometimes more so than others.

Moscow Nights

>>Enter nostalgic mode. <<

"Moscow Nights" is likely one of the best known Russian songs abroad. Despite being somewhat contrived, however, it possesses the right kind of sentimentality, especially when performed by our operatic badass, Dmitri Hvorostovsky:

The river is flowing, and seems still;
Everything shines silver in the moonlight;
Song is heard, and then it's silent again
On these quiet evenings.

Like this: 

Of course, technically the song is about those nights that are spent outside of Moscow. Yet, at the same time, Russia's capital was smaller when it was written in the 1950s, so the error is forgivable. 

Moscow is a magical city.  If you look up, you just might catch a glimpse of a naked witch flying over your head as she straddles a pig. At least in literature!  

But it can also be serene. After all, it rightfully is the Third Rome. 

These are my recent Moscow nights:

A bit too central, but at least I lived them.

Tonight, Tonight

As you can see from this mobile test shot, the stormy sky has finally cleared up, serving as an impressionistic backdrop in the shades of pink, lilac, and gold for Moscow's onion-domed heart on its name-sake river. I feel a little bit like Woland overlooking the City. This calls for night shooting, because sleep is overrated.

The only thing missing in this metropolis is the Moon. (That, too, is something Woland would say, isn't it? But then, of course, he'd make the Moon appear.)