Peterhof today. Everything was magnificently golden, with an autumn backdrop of vivid oranges, a combination of rich muted colours. Women collected the autumn leaves from the park and carried them as bouquets. Some children wore them as lush autumn crowns around there heads.
European style gardens with Orthodox gold dominating everything. The gardens didn’t initially impart a sense of awe, because they are not strikingly different from European gardens. It is disconcerting, this Europe in Russia, an emulation of the West which is mirrored today in Mcdonald-going, Hollywood films, imported Western fashion. Strange such an emulation when the most fabulous buildings are in the Russian style.. The very edible Church of spilled blood with glorious, jubilatory colours.
The gulf of Finland, the fence and boundary of the park, was a very sober sea. Hungover maybe, from rollicking around on the Atlantic. A uniform grey covers sky and water, calm and disinterested.
I am such a parrot that my English is already affected by non-communication with native-speakers - word order jeapordised, unnecessary words stripped out. It is difficult not to be able to express your full vocabulary, knowing that it will not be understood; subtleties and underlying hints will not have the strength to jump the language barrier.
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