As the weather warms, Moscow has been getting a bath. Yesterday morning, as I ventured out into the Moscow streets, there were many sidewalks getting baths.
The soot and grime of a the snow is slowly leaving -- though I doubt if it will every be fully gone. Not that it matters -- the warmer temps have people out and about, enjoying the beauty that was hidden under those grey heaps of ice and snow.
Today was another day of sun and lovely temperatures. It was almost a shame to have to go to the theater, to have to leave the brisk out of doors; but then, the play my classmates, Tolya, and me saw was equally lovely. "La Estrada."
About an hour long, "La Estrada" was a smart bit of stageplay about the state of the arts. An actress laments her lack of work, due to the rise of commonfolks taking acting gigs away from true actors (or so the Golden Mask synopsis said), and in the process wanders in and out of a series of monologues and dialogues from Chekhov's "The Seagull." The way it was staged was masterful. Restrained but complex, it was as beautiful as the sun gleaming off of the domes of St. Basil's. It was simple but thoughtful, and knew when to call it an evening (it was about an hour long).
Having gotten the playful wit of the short show, we all strolled out of the theater and up Tverskaya, happy. It was a rather perfect day, which was very much needed. I guess a perfect day's rarity is what makes it all the more special -- if it was common, it wouldn't be appreciated.
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