Trekhprudny Lane

Soon after we arrived, I joined a gym. Running outside is impossible (the packs of dogs, as it turns out, are pretty well behaved. Not enough parkland, though.) So my plan is that a treadmill (and Bjork's wintry Vespertine) will keep me healthy as the cold sets in. A's strategy involves no exercise whatsoever, fish oil capsules, and something called "living beer," sold everywhere here. We will see who succumbs first. 

Next to my gym is the crumbling costume department of one of the city's older theater troupes. As I pass by each morning, I always look to see the cardboard box sitting just inside one of the windows, piled four feet high with petticoats and hoopskirts. I wish I could go inside, once!