Walking along Nevskiy; a fantasy

I want to get horribly intoxicated on a cocktail of Soviet Champagne, a big cuban cigar and Shostakovich and then walk out on Nevskiy and blame everything. I'll blame the collapsed marble seat outside Gostiny Dvor for it's laziness; I'll blame the snow for not sticking to it's convinctions but giving in and melting into water;  I'll blame the beer cans for lying there on the road; I'll chide the crumbling dirty facades for  not taking proper care of themselves; I'll blame the paving stones for holding me down here on this one urban street with not much happening instead of lifting  me up and taking me some-where sublime. How beautiful the sky  and the network of rivers below would be.

 I'll sit on the metro and  I'll blame the reflections in the dark windows  for showing me only the masked faces of people and not revealing their soul or translating their conversation.  My elation will well up into melancholy so I will blame all the people for  sitting so indifferently and not sharing  my emotion and the metro for taking me some-where too slowly.

After this magnificent shedding of responsibility I'll want to feel in control again and I'll make my sincere apologies to all. I'll explain to the marble seat that it was I who kicked the support from under it; I was jealous of it's solidity and the way it conspired with all the lovers holding hands. So I'll kiss it's marble surreptitiously when I think no one's looking. I'll gently lift the beer cans and bury them  reverentially in their tomb and then I'll lay on the road to better understand their  degradation; thrown down they lie helpless against kicks and scornful steps to avoid them.  To the snow I'll admit that I joined the universal chant against the Snow Queen  telling her to go away, come again another day. I beat it with my hunting shoes and called it malicious and avoided it. I'll empathise with it's tears (it is transforming into whole canals and lakes of tears across the town) and cry into it. I'll know that it is only myself holding me down and pinning the paving stone under me. To make amends I'll draw the towers and fortresses and parks it will never see in chalk across it's granite.