Novgorod, Russian Federation
It reminds me of the late summer in 1993 that I spent in Alaska. Floating through the air tiny white fluffy seeds. Giving animated substance to sunbeams. Loosed by last nights downpour they lie caught in Novgorod’s gutter-edge grills and in the spikes of my beard. They’ve been floating for days now. I saw them in SPb. Racing against the northern summer’s brevity the seeds seek new dominion via the Baltic wind’s assistance. Maybe it was that light and the intense green of the beech and oak forests that reminded me if Alaska. The white flaking trunks and the freshness of the air made aromatic by the ever so delicate warmth of the sun. The gentle floating parade of the fluffy white seeds connecting all parts of this northwest Russian landscape gave me the sense of unity. From where I sit now outside the Novgorod kremlin I can see the fluffy whites drift before me, while off in the distance, across the moat and beset by the deepening green of the denser forest recesses, they make a steady passage i the same direction. Like a journey of faithful pilgrims making their way in unison despite and oblivious to the world that stands around them. There’s a sense of festival in the air. And it’s not he making of humans.