Farewell letter

This city of stone is sleeping in the hands of the winds. In this city beautiful ladies with hungry eyes and greedy itch of a new love on a leash are pounding heels on the sidewalks. From the chains of this city the ships are tearing off into the endless sky, everybody who’s leaving this city is never coming back. In this city birds are seen by their eyes full of love to the sun we don’t see. In this city Romeo drinks vodka and rolls a joint because he already knows that his Juliette has to die. In this city everybody keeps his own loop on his chest and is ready to bite to death everyone who is going to measure the deepness of his sufferings in a hope to find the bottom. In this city a loud deafness with rhythmical recitative of unconcern flows from thousands headphones inserted in heads. In this dusky city a poor man is standing with his back to the wall pressed tightly, dropping his violin from his cold weakened hands. In this city beautiful old lobbies yawn with a musty darkness and hide millions of stories of the famous people, book heroes and strangers we’ll never know. In this city people have forgotten how to smile, sad history through the ages, kings, queens, dictators, revolutions, wars, siege, starvation and destitution imprinted on their faces. In this city you can’t keep warm no matter what season is outside your window but the children wrapped in three layers of coats and five layers of scarves that disturb them to breathe and to move normally leave their house every evening in a hopeless search for fallen stars. But this city has the brightest nights ever full of surprises when you could never know where and how your next day can start.

You are living in this city. Every evening abyss is looking inside you and you are smoking into the window and smiling on its face like it’s your ex-mistress. This city of stone survives everybody and will stand quietly so wet and anxious till the end of time in this field of a laughing silence like a memorial of the all earthly passions. I want to run from this city and i don’t ever wanna leave it. This is the most stunning city in the whole world, this is the city where the beauty stops the heart. My hair smells like this city, you can see the reflection of this city in my pupils, it is beating with sinews of rivers and roads under my dress…

This is the city that i LOVE.

Ever ours. Ever thine. Ever mine.


Photo by Boris Smelov


  1. wow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i found you on instagram after typing #Mombasa you literature or addictive and inspiring i would love to work with you

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