Today, on my way to a concert that started at 22:00, I managed for a moment to catch a thought by the tail and look at it closely. It turned out to be a splinter from the past that, like a splinter in the skin, still makes itself felt from time to time. What was it about?

I was thinking: if the concert starts at 22:00, and the air is pleasantly cool at that time (+15) it must be autumn. My eyes kept catching on those beautiful yellow leaves that have set off on their final journey and will soon turn to dust under my soles and under the soles of thousands of other people hurrying about their business.

And if it is autumn and I am going somewhere at night, how will I get back home? The metro will already be closed, the buses and trams will have rolled into their city dead-ends and fallen asleep until morning. Maybe they dream of endless kilometres of the same roads, or maybe of distant horizons in cities they will never visit. So I will have to return on foot or by taxi, but how? The bridges will already be raised.

It is strange that it will soon be four years since I left St Petersburg, and yet it still moves its gentle, damp hands somewhere inside me and sometimes strokes my heart, stirring up pleasant feelings.