URSS stack004

Text :

Moscow at dawn. When even the abominations of Stalinist architecture take on airs
of fairy-tale castles, when even the jumble of rusting pipes, peeling staircases, dying
plants, hemmed-in courtyards, streets full of potholes traversed by tireless walkers
with their shopping bags always gaping (« just in case… ») and that odor of unrefined
oil that would make the city recognizable with your eyes closed -when even all that,
for a brief moment, at each sunrise, its the promise of a city.