Trekhprudny Lane

Yesterday, with shop mannequins dressed in shepherd garb looking over our shoulders, deep within the black, cold cave of a thirteenth-century church, a jolly priest baptized Lula at top speed. I will remember the humming quiet of the church, the smell of feces on my hands (EB had a big accident just before, perhaps in protest of all the attention being paid to her sister), and the beautiful mossy smell of the bricks.