My family knows I love . So when they brought me closer to the middle of an open book, I was not surprised, began to read: “New York is real. He calls the museum did not thrill. It was created for life, work, entertainment and death. Historical monuments are absent. Past, present and future are drawn in the same harness.

Revolution happen – there will be nothing to storm. There is no sense of place. There is a sense of the ship, stuffed with millions of passengers. This city is so diverse that you know – there is a corner for you. ” Not having read through, I realized that it Dovlatov. On the cover he is looking somewhere else for us over the head and the words “Craft.” You have already understood that passage, as well as the entire book – autobiographical. But most importantly to a friend! If you pick up the book, see the note just to the site, I realized – that is so necessary to write in his blog. “Craft” – is essentially a “blog” Dovlatov.

Off is not possible. It seems to me Every blogger wants to on his blog could not tear myself away. How do I do? Read Dovlatov. Now note Dovlatov called “The Island” is fully Island ‘Three cities have passed through my life. The first was Leningrad. Without work and effort was given Leningrad posture of the capital. Water and stone determined its horizontal pompous style. Generosity is as common as unhealthy complexion, debt and perpetual self-irony. Leningrad has painful complex spiritual center, somewhat deprived of its administrative rights. The combination of inferiority and superiority makes him a very sarcastic gentleman. Such cities have in any decent country. (In Italy – Milan. In France – Lyon. In the United States – Boston.) Leningrad called the capital of the Russian provinces. I think it’s the least the city soviet Russia … Next was Tallinn. Some consider it too tiny, confectionery, cloying. I know that these cakes – with stuffing. Tallinn – the city is vertical, introverted. Looking at the Gothic tower and think – about yourself. This is the least Soviet Baltic city. Penalty transfer between East and West. My life has flowed for years from East to West. The third city in this life became a New York City. New York – a chameleon. A broad smile on his face, easily replaced by a contemptuous grimace. New York relaxing serene and deadly. Sweeping generous and painfully stingy. Ready to bestow you, but is able to destroy, and without a moment’s hesitation. Its architecture resembles a bunch of toys. It is a nightmare so that achieves a certain harmony. His aesthetics in harmony with the train accident. It violates the laws of school geometry. Mocks gravity. Refreshes the memory of third-Cubist canvases. New York real. He did not cause the museum trepidation. It was created for life, work, entertainment and death. Historical monuments are absent. Past, present and future are drawn in the same harness. Revolution happen – there will be nothing to storm. There is no sense of place. There is a sense of the ship, stuffed with millions of passengers. This city is so diverse that you know – there is a corner for you. I think that New York City – my last, decisive, final city.