You notice that nearly all the leaves have fallen from the trees outside your window, and through their bare branches, you can now clearly see the lights on in the bulding across the street. It suddenly brings back a memory of an autumn evening many years ago.
It had grown dark with startling speed. Your parents were taking you with them to visit friends — there was no one to leave you with at home — and all you wanted in the world was to stay behind and watch cartoons. Under the soles of your small, disliked shoes, you felt the squelch of puddles, the slick of wet asphalt, and the soft decay of rotting leaves. A commuter train hummed in the distance. In the twilight of the back courtyards, you could just barely make out the silhouettes: a woman in a puffer jacket with a German shepherd on a leash, the building of a long-shuttered shoe repair shop, a man in a huge coat drinking alone on a bench, and the old garages where a group of teenagers was leaping across the rooftops. But what captivated you most was the light in the windows of the surrounding apartments. It was so fascinating to peer through the bare branches of the poplars and chestnut trees. The only pity is that on that walk, you had no way to play the Grisha Gerg mix for 5/8: Radio
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You notice that nearly all the leaves have fallen from the trees outside your window, and through their bare branches, you can now clearly see the lights on in the bulding across the street. It suddenly brings back a memory of an autumn evening many years ago.
It had grown dark with startling speed. Your parents were taking you with them to visit friends — there was no one to leave you with at home — and all you wanted in the world was to stay behind and watch cartoons. Under the soles of your small, disliked shoes, you felt the squelch of puddles, the slick of wet asphalt, and the soft decay of rotting leaves. A commuter train hummed in the distance. In the twilight of the back courtyards, you could just barely make out the silhouettes: a woman in a puffer jacket with a German shepherd on a leash, the building of a long-shuttered shoe repair shop, a man in a huge coat drinking alone on a bench, and the old garages where a group of teenagers was leaping across the rooftops. But what captivated you most was the light in the windows of the surrounding apartments. It was so fascinating to peer through the bare branches of the poplars and chestnut trees. The only pity is that on that walk, you had no way to play the Grisha Gerg mix for 5/8: Radio
You suddenly hear the distant clatter of train wheels somewhere far away. And in your memory surfaces a summer day when you were still very young. A winding forest path. The crunch of pine cones under your feet. Clouds glimpsed through the branches of towering trees. You already know — what comes next is everything you once loved: the creak of the old metal gate at the dacha, the rope swing hanging from the willow bowed over the pond, ice cream melting in the summer heat from the kiosk in the neighboring garden settlement, the echo of your footsteps through abandoned pioneer camp buildings, the smell of your mother's vegetable soup wafting from the kitchen, the locomotive's whistle and the rhythmic clatter of express trains rushing past the station. The only thing missing would be kaisou's mix for 5/8: radio. And that, of course, is a rather regrettable oversight
5/8 : radio
You notice that nearly all the leaves have fallen from the trees outside your window, and through their bare branches, you can now clearly see the lights on in the bulding across the street. It suddenly brings back a memory of an autumn evening many years ago.
It had grown dark with startling speed. Your parents were taking you with them to visit friends — there was no one to leave you with at home — and all you wanted in the world was to stay behind and watch cartoons. Under the soles of your small, disliked shoes, you felt the squelch of puddles, the slick of wet asphalt, and the soft decay of rotting leaves. A commuter train hummed in the distance. In the twilight of the back courtyards, you could just barely make out the silhouettes: a woman in a puffer jacket with a German shepherd on a leash, the building of a long-shuttered shoe repair shop, a man in a huge coat drinking alone on a bench, and the old garages where a group of teenagers was leaping across the rooftops. But what captivated you most was the light in the windows of the surrounding apartments. It was so fascinating to peer through the bare branches of the poplars and chestnut trees. The only pity is that on that walk, you had no way to play the Grisha Gerg mix for 5/8: Radio
