In the park Monceau birds are singing. Endlessly. In the park Monceau …. The
The cut the grass in the park Monceau. Winters and springs along the cut.
In the park Monceau children play. They speak French...
« The city must never be confused with the words that describe it. And yet between the one and the other there is a connection. » —Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
In the park Monceau birds are singing. Endlessly. In the park Monceau …. The media_text
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I grew up in the Soviet Union. In one of the “southern” Central Asian parts, in the most wildly beautiful country, the Kyrgyz Republic, among a people with an ancient, not to say archaic life history/biography, in... media_text
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Through a veil of clouds, that chained the streets of the city in an insufferable fug, last beams of the disappearing sun were visible. A fiery red circle was hiding behind the mountain’s... media_text
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The landscape of the Kyrgyz so-called written literature (in comparison with the-still existing oral tradition in poetry and epic genres) - of the late 1920s and early 1930s is a scene of dull and engaged writings.... media_text
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‘You could write a story about this,’ she said. A long hallway stretched for dozens of meters. Darkness didn’t let the signs on numerous doors be read, didn’t let the dust on the bookshelves be distinctly seen... media_text
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“Djailoo” in traditional Kyrgyz culture is a fundamental concept, embodying the summer pasture and grazing, where every year during warm period Kyrgyz nomads move their families and yurt homes. “Djailoo” occurs not... media_text
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It was in a remote village in the Kyrgyz Pamir Mountains. I remember vividly the beauty of that night. It was a beautiful night with a bright and generous moon. The firmament of stars suspended so low. In the bright... media_text
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