NOW - 07.07.2008

No tickets from Moscow to St. Petersburg. None and never.

Bought myself a place in the conductor’s compartment.

In Tver two young-and-wonderful boarded.

They were sleeping with their heads against the glass in the corridor. I invited them to join me and waited outside while they prepared a bunk.

The girl came out and asked, laughing:
“Do we disturb you?”
“No”, I said.
“Who are you, actually?” – she asked.
I said, “I’m one of the train security,” (bald, black jacket – so she couldn’t doubt it).
“Excuse us, if we get noisy.”
“No worries,” said I, “sing, laugh… should I wait in the corridor?”
“Well, you’ll probably have to wait a long time. He’s like a Roman law, you know, indistinct and very slow.”

We laughed very loud… The guy peeked out.

“I’m coming. I’m running. I’m already there!” she said to him.

I slept quite honest-minded and dreamed of a bi-directional flow of people.

In the morning she catches me up on the platform, laughing again:

“But you’re not from the security.”
“Security?”
“I know you.”
“I know.”
“Do you have echolalia?”
“Echolalia.”

She’s laughing again. Now the chap is here: “Baby, leave him alone!”

Just outside of the train station she turns to me again:
“Did you sleep well?”
“Fine. Rome, Sparta, a kid falling down the abyss; he was too lightweight, not warrior-like.”

Her eyes narrow.
“Anton, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So what do you guard there?”
“The secret of Caipirinha.”

And I head for a taxi. I want to dance.

On June 11 and 12 I was on stage with a guitar in my hands and a microphone at my throat. Friendly musicians around me. We called the concert “Vsyo Khorosho!” – “Everything is fine!”

Text: Anton Adasinsky
English text editor: Jennifer Williams
Photo: Anna Bogodist, Olga Arefieva, Alexandra Krivolutskaya
Photo design: Elena Yarovaya