Le Sacre du Printemps and the chosen one - Coco and Igor

The first time I heard le Sacre du Printemps was in New York, part of my husband's classic music appreciation exercise. We went to Avery Fisher Hall and after the show went to the Empire Hotel (torn down or moved) opposite Lincoln Center. I remembered the dark velvet curtains at the hotel bar. We met a former high rank executive of Pfizer who just underwent a throat surgery due to heavy smoking. He could no longer talk so he took the option of heavy drinking.
Then par hazard I saw the ballet in a long haul airplane - contrast to Nicolas Roerich's colorful costumes, it was a group of faceless and colorless individuals. Too chic. It was the movie that truly carved the music in my mind with it's power of dissonances and asymmetries. Listening to him is like to appreciate Picasso. What a comparison to the delightful Tchaikovsky violin concerto which is the hallmark of beautiful music!
So, what happened in the mind of the chosen one, the lucky one and the doomed one when she was chosen? If I were her, I would be dancing and eying the village elder, strangle him or kick him in the head, make it an efficient sacrifice of two to God - if that helps.

Moscow does not believe in tears

Girls are out, braving the spring cold with short skirts. Vodka is poured. Warm it up - we can't do anything to the cold, but we can do something to our body and to our mind. Don’t expect it to be so good. Don’t expect it to be so bad either. You are in Russia. In the roughest roughness there might be the finest fineness or, vice versa!
Moscow tried and will always try. Moscow failed many time but one thing still holds: Moscow does not believe in tears. Cheers!

Sketches of Russia

The land is covered by snow. The snow is so white that it looks blue. Everything is frozen. Napoleon failed, revolutions staged and ideologies born and dead. Dr Zhivago’s mother got buried, into this bluish fridge, like the Tsars family. Who said that there is no equality?
The snow covered land extends to the horizon, to the faintest blue. The lighter the color, the further the distance. The mountains look at discarded skeletons. The rivers look like a snapshot of rivers on a map – with its stand-still streams meaning nothing but a sign. The desert ignores all other existence – because to a great stretch it is the only existence.
A road, with nobody and nothing on it, cut through the snow. It seems that someone just tried to wake up the earth with a giant whip, a straight strike, so deep and so painful. The road leads to more harsh, dry and rough land.
All of a sudden, a tiny village appeared, like a few bricks accidentally dropped in the middle of nowhere. This is what all the journey is worth for.

The squirrel and the lion

Once upon a time a squirrel wants to become a lion.
He goes to the lion and asks: "I want to be a lion. What shall I do?"
The lion says: "You need to go hunting for meat."
The squirrel goes back home and catches a bird. But he has no appetite for the bird. When hunger kicks in, he gathers 5 nuts. He eats 3 and hides 2 and goes to sleep.
The next day he wakes up and feels dreams unfulfilled. He goes to the lion again.
"How can I become a lion."? Asks the squirrel.
The lion grabs the squirrel and swallows it.

安轩

闻笛出天姥古寺，
随蝶入柴扉半掩。
断壁难遮闲庭院，
莲池澈映雁云远。
叶展花开香长燃，
书黄茶凉日苦短。
挑枝戏看今朝事，
抚苔难辨旧楹联。

Lover

A lover is a cloud in the twilight,
surprising
beautiful
ever-changing.
It shows off its gold lining,
while casting a shadow.
The moment you marvel it's existence,
to vanish is it's destiny.

Mumbai safari

This is a city that honors four things: Bollywood, Politicians, Industrial Tycoons and Cricket Players. All the rest means nothing. It is almost a crime getting into these luxury hotels as poverty is just next door, so striking. and alarming.
There is construction. There are too many cars. The metro line is being built. The unfinished highway is suspending overhead like a shipwreck.
Hope is like dust falling everywhere, despite what you think.