1. Countries of contrast. My friend, Koncha Ever Manuel Jara (he's a Paraguayan, he's name is not Koncha, but Ever :). pronounced like "Hara" ) visited Russia for the 1st time in his life in December 2006.
Well, guess, what was the first thing he was offered there? Yes! It was Vodka.
Surprisingly, he drank it like juice and asked for more. Just like he's been living in Russia for years!
The whole thing ended up at one country-house, where he was invited. He was sitting amongst two very-very drunk lawyers (American and Russian) and was holding a very deep monologue.. with himself :). Needless to say that the level of his sobriety was too low to sit straight and listen to those guys, so he disregarded their discussions and was just repeating one thing:
- Well. My name is Ever. This is my name. I know, it is a stupid name. But still - this is my name. Ever. That's how they call me. Ever. This is my name....
As you can see, ancient philosophers aren't fit to tie his shoelaces :)
2. Level of risk. When I visited Moscow in December, I was shocked by the way people cross roads. Well, I must say that all extreme skaters, pro-racers and stuntmen are just poor silly little chaps.
Old ladies, men, women.. with a hungry outrageous glitter in their eyes RUSH across hard thoroughfare and traffic when the RED LIGHT is active! Who said Russians are feeble?! Bullshit!
They're hungry for risking their lives. True heroes. No doubt :/
I guess that were all my observations for now, to be continued :)
You know, Stephen King's "Dark Tower" has one very dramatic episode. It is in the 7th volume, the last one from the whole epos.
It is about Ted. Ted Brotigan, the Chief Breaker and key character of this book, including "Hearts in Atlantis".
Ted created with his emotional and psychic abilities one place, right under the level of Algul Siento. He called it "Spice-cake House", and it became his hideout, a hideout for his thoughts and dreams, where no one could disturb or capture him.
Never existing, absolutely illusive house, where the walls were made of spice-cake and all furniture was made of blackberries..
However, Ted existed itself. And henceforth this whole house was material. Was real.
He even could make portals to whereever he wanted right from the Spice-cake House.
And I thought - hey, we all have our own Spice-cake House. It's our own, no one can terminate it. It's in our head.
And, likewise, this journal of mine is the hideout, the sanctuary of my thoughts, mind and soul.