There's a number of calvaries here in the capital of Belarus.
One of them is trying to eat out. We met phf for what was supposed to be sushi, smack drab in the centre of town (vul Lenina, I mean...) at this pretentiously posh place we never tried before that had... miserable roadside grill "teriyaki", sad "eggplants" saturated in oil to the point of disgustingly melting in the mouth, an inept selection of stale old fish... terrible. So we retraced familiar ground, this "chill cafe" thing with sorta-decent finger food. Considering the excellence of raw suppliesi, the staggering incidence of terrible eateries is simply unaccountable.
Another calvary is... well... Look around you. What do you see ?
This'd be the end of the newer (Awtazavodskaya) metro line -- Kamyennaya Horka ("stone hill"). Whatever it might be that you see, you're nevertheless fortunate in that you... don't smell. The whole damned thing reeked, discreetely so therefore even more insufferably, of animal excrement. There's a pig farm the size of Hungary somewhere nearby, there must be, everything's bathed, permeated by it.
This is exiting towards Cunt Sawshchyna (the cunt not depicted). And it still reeks.
What is the point of even being a young woman, if the very air around you stinks of pig shit ? Past the obvious question as to "why even bother dressing", or "combing your hair", what exactly is the fucking point of even existing ?
Get the fuck out, yo. Get the fuck out now, at your age you've got no time to waste.ii
After a brief foray in the aftermath of porkcalypse, we ran back inside, and only emerged for... more of the same! It's Spartywnaya by now, faux marble interiors and the wafts unabated!
It may look like the long forgotten temple of an underground sect of demented dwarves, but it's really Pushkinskaya, wherein resides yet another Calvary!
Can you spot it ?
No, this is not it, this is the alien improved chicken coop. Scroll down.
Yep, that's right! Kalvaryja cemetery, an old(er) catholic camposanto more recently famous for... the "scandal" of the administration tearing down old graves to sell the spots to more current rich folks. As fucking if there's any other way to run a cemetery, for Chrissakes!
Soul reservoir. You know, for souls.
The sign says, most profoundly, "timely" (which in Russian works as "temporary", but you must agree is not quite the same thing) resting place for scrap metal. See, the souls of the crosses, their ideal portion, the meaning and thereby recognizable pattern and structure's back in the tank. What's here is merely the ashes & dust of material, the scrap metal portion of scrap metal. See what I mean ?
Yep, that's a small astroturf rectangle, cut so it doesn't fit the intended socket.
Above : I bet you this is the oven.
Below : Pole by the ovens.
Most peculiar angel statue ; recent make though rather art deco-ish in appearance.
Riga Crypto & his merry band of shrooms and fungi are pretty much the happiest denizens of Minsk. I don't just mean the cemeteries either, Belarus is firmly mushroom country.
That family name reads... Vaginii.
What do you wish a girl that moved on aged 21, but only after having what's evidently a live Panda pet ? That you'll be as cool as her, obviously, for yourself ; but for her ?
Above : streetwalkers doing their thing -- a calvary of its own, I'm told. I don't know, I just get to enjoy the finished product.
Alright, well, I'd say that's enough Calvary for one single day, let alone one single article.
- Not including, for some incomprehensible reason, bread. I'd have expected all sort and manner of mindblowing pumpernickels etc, but no such luck, Minsk seems to be the wonderbread capital of the world. [↩]
- People are always pretending they don't understand why youth is in such a hurry.
Let me fucking explain to you why youth is in such a hurry, and old age has all the time in the world : by the time you're old, if you've made it (which you have, or else you're no topic of conversation), the moats and walls protecting your achievement from the blind, random efforts of nude life are so damned incomprehensibly tall, five minutes dun make a whit of difference. Whereas when you're young, there is no moat. Any other dumb cunt from the equal and idempotent spawn of exactly identical dumb cunts can replicate any achievement of yours in, literally, the time it takes to down a sandwich. So you haven't the time for any sandwiches. Makes perfect sense, dunnit ? [↩]