You know you're in Moscow when the sweet light of salvation is green.
Or there's a leopard-print backhoe digger on your street at midnight on a Friday.
Or a pigeon in the metro.
Or a giant man-beer outside the metro.
Or this assortment of lunch items at the neighborhood grocery.
Or this cat in said grocery, who you just saw taking a shit in a litterbox behind the lunch counter.
Speaking of cats — hey kitty, kitty, why are you crying? Can I do something for you?
NO. FUCK OFF. I'M BUSY HATIN'.
Bottles.
Members of the Israeli Eurovision posse kickin' it.
WARNING: This is not a strip club. It's a normal one. I mean, relative to the surroundings. It's not considered normal in a lot of places to have white Grace Jones look-alikes dancing in what looks like a shredded trash bag.
Disembodied head person crossing.
This car was parked by the dumpster near our place. The stuffed rabbit inside looks pretty dead. The creepy thing is that its eyes are still open, as if it died of fright. Not surprising given that it's by the dumpster.
Dragon lady, let your animal-patterned light shine.
It's springtime and the livin' is easy in Moscow. Easy enough to post up on whatever bench may be available. I'm not sure what I'm more curious about: the purse or the jacket.
A few blocks away (same day) was a more conservatively-dressed bench sleeper.
The view out our front door's peephole.
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