Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)

My city is sleeping and dreaming... Of what? Of whom? Of us who wander its streets and avenues by day and by night. Of us who were born here and know every corner, and of us who have just arrived from the provinces with tents in our backpacks. Of us who explore its guts and climb its walls to satisfy our needs. Needs for love, for words, for a place to sleep. Or is it just me, dreaming of my Petersburg — devastated, half ruined, but still beautiful, welcoming us into its abandoned palaces and always ready to offer us a place to rest in the green waters of its canals? No need to define it. "City was sleeping and dreaming of us" is a brief record of the traces left on the surface of the city by three characters: a provincial vagabond, a romantic existentialist, and a drunken poet. Traces of the last careless summer, recorded just before the end of the collective dream and the collective disappearance.

Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)
Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)
Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)
Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)
Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)
Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)
Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)
Городу снились мы (City was sleeping and dreaming of us)