Insert trite comment about things getting worse before they get better.
Down in the murdery cellar there are about twelve recycling bags so far with dead boxes in them. Which means the contents of them have sort of exploded up here. And still many more to go...it feels endless, and hateful, and I never want to move again. Or if I do I will burn everything first.
This afternoon I took a break and went to a free concert at the Centre Culturel et Scientifique de Russie. I could not tell you what was played because my programme had nothing on it, and everyone was speaking Russian. But it was rather lovely. When you have nothing but the musicians to look at, it is hard not to get distracted by the fact that the violinist is sweating from his hair, all down his face onto his suit. And it's only February. I suppose it's warm here if you are Russian.
Oddly, the Centre Culturel is two minutes from where I was living before. Although it's not quite three weeks since I moved it feels already like somewhere from long ago. Somewhere strange but familiar. I picked up my mail and some stray items in my (still my, for another month) room. Felt very odd being there. Said hello on the stairs to the girl who let me in the first night. Max Fleming is still not picking up his mail.