When the ratio reaches it’s own borders, it starts using names.
I decided not to go out on this last night of ’91 and spend the night together with sick old Sascha at my place. We did quite a lot of talking. The neighbour dropped in and tried to install a new version of a Russian language programme that also did not work.
Walking around with B.M. through the snowy city of Petersburg I find it hard to believe that I have ever been as afraid of her as I was. We get along very well now. She still indulges in invading other peoples physical privacy, such as Lili’s. With me she is a little more careful now, me not caring much anymore notwithstanding. She understood that my head is misleadingly more open than my heart.
Russian is fun.
Aleksander attracted some cockroaches lately – great company. We get along rather well; if only he wasn’t in love so much with names – he is very quick with labels.
Also he said something extremely nice about Alexandra: if she would lose her intellect he would not notice it straight away, even though she is the only really intelligent young women he knows, because this intelligence is nothing but a pleasant addition (“a free supplement”) to her wonderful core.
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