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no answer (the melon seller)

A shiny black van pulls up, wheels skidding on gravel. Five, maybe six men step out all at once. They wear black t-shirts and army fatigues. Their heads are shaved, slick with sweat in the afternoon sun. Their arms are huge, squeezed into those shirts a few sizes too small. All at once they circle a fruit stand by the road. It is made of plywood, held together with a few screws. One good sneeze could level it. Rows of torpedo shaped melons sit on bulging shelves, below them a cage full of watermelons. The men yank smartphones from their pockets, taking pictures, making calls. I assume they are some covert team that extorts vendors, either sending them home and destroying the fruit or worse. I somehow expect the man does not have a permit and the right papers to sell anything. In Russia, you need permission to do just about anything. There are no five year olds with lemonade stands here. 
I cross the street, distancing myself as I glimpse the men between the cars and trolley buses tha…

Mad World (a scary song)

no words

a sort of homecoming (speaking English)

It's our pleasure to serve you

an expat holiday

directions

more than winter (the fool)

adjustments

messy clocks (to be seen)

pianos (a different life)

the imaginary numbers

promises

lining up the bones (saved by chicken shit)

wandering nameless streets (Tony Come Back August)

candy (the cinematographer)

Where is Valery?

the Abraham Lincoln summer

snapshots from the end of summer

burnt toast is the sweetest

What do you want to be when you grow up? (sucker punch)

when you smile (I am a boat)

fumbling in the dark (pushing elephants)

something about rain (E makes a movie)

anything was possible (suffer no more)

white nights and no place to go

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best personal blogs