The Madness of White Nights

The question of happiness is still open, like a window through which you can see the stars—though you can just smoke instead…

Buy a ticket, go to Peter (St. Petersburg)—you can even go alone. You’ll definitely fall in love with someone; at the very least—with the city. You’ll mend black days with white nights, help raise and lower bridges whose roads are marked up to the sky. You’ll reach heights and become great—he thought that from above you can see everything.

But all he saw was this: the city is cold, people don’t change, weeks fly by, and on Sunday evening everyone thinks about happiness. Someone digests Saturday, others can’t digest Monday.