Mark Shagal, my sister's cat and a little bit of Hesse

I felt very sad yesterday evening with no reason. I know it was just a mood, not me.

My sister is away and I have to go to her place and feed her cat Moshka everyday. And not only feed but just be with him. He is very lonely. So proud and independent usually, with his ever whisking tail, he is unattainable and unreachable. And now he is gentle and melodious and he doesn’t want to leave your uncomfortable and numbing knees.

I bought Enya video clips and Queen’s Live at Wembley and whilst watching them I burst into tears right over Moshka’s shoulder-blades because of unbearable beauty of people and because of something about death, something that always makes you feel scared and makes you cry even when you don’t want to cry at all.


And I did have a wonderful day, buy the way. I went to Russian museum to mark Shagal exhibition. I realised that people who hang the pictures on the walls, install the light and change the colours of the walls are some kind of photoshop. They sharpen and blur, add frames, they simply make paintings even more colourful and intellectual.
I was walking along the museum thinking of my wonderful friend winters_tail, because a few years ago we used to almost spend days here, drinking tea with her aunt in those little mysterious “fo stuff only” areas.

And then my dearest group mate Katia took me to a nice sushi place. It felt weird to be paid for by a beautiful and slim lass. :-) I never have money and I never hide this fact as well. She is leaving soon for Japan and I won’t see her for the whole year. I probably will never see this Katia again. Though I will meet this ch pilgrim as well, as she will wake up in the morning one night older.

And a few words about depth and sadness, because it is very important:

“You told me about my joy and your sadness, thinking (as I assume) as if I underestimated something that you call your “complaint”, and that I underestimate it even today, because my answer to you complaint is a smile. There’s something I can’t understand. Why can’t you listen to a complaint with joy? Why can’t you answer to it with a smile, not with sadness again? (…) If I do not share your troubles and sorrows, it doesn’t mean that I do not respect them or do not take them seriously.”

“Look, - he said, - look at this ordinary scenery with the stripes of the skies! At first it seems that the darkest bits are the deepest, but then you see that those dark and soft parts are just clouds, and the space with its depth begins only at the edges and fiords of those cloud mountains and goes into eternity, where the stars shine triumphantly, the stars that are the supreme symbols of clarity and order. Depth of the world and its mysteries is not in clouds and darkness, but depth is in pellucid joy." (Hesse, The Glass Bead Game)