art, sex and crime in st. petersburg

November 1

I've been in my room for three days. On the floor, flipping through old, musty books. 

I've resisted sleeping until I found the portrait, but I've lost the battle against my body a few times. I sleep one or two hours before returning to work. I am beginning to see what's not there. Day and night have blended, as the skies are almost black with heavy clouds refusing to release. Scanning the pages now might be futile. I might be meant to see the portrait when the clouds finally gush and rain slams down all around this old concrete building.

I had a dream of walking outside well after midnight and seeing the portrait painted onto the North side of this building, almost at scale. Moonlight was enough to make it clear. 

I may have passed it already. I have flipped through over 1000 pages across many books.

The seasons turned overnight. I pulled a curtain back early this morning and saw everything – cracked streets, defaced statues, bare trees, and dented automobiles -- brushed with frost. It sparkled and glistened. The rising sun would melt it, thought I wished it would stay, giving the impression of sealing us all in. I wanted it to touch my face. 

I opened jammed window. My room sucked in the icy air, which flooded my face, down by neck and chest. I opened by mouth to take it in my lungs. I took my sweater and coat out of my duffle bag and left the window open.

I’ve seen a man saunter past these apartments six times in two days. His pace was slower than someone with somewhere to go, and this avenue is not affable to languid strolling. His high collar concealed his face.

Nobody knows I am here. Not even Sergei. The room is listed on the directory as a Mrs. Babanin. Everyone is alone in this city. Not a soul trusts another soul. It’s better that way – nobody can be trusted. I see my neighbour peeking through her door when I walk up the stairs. She thinks I can’t see her. 

As I become more exhausted, the sketch of this portrait conveys more anguish. And every portrait in these books resembles it. I can’t sleep as there isn’t much more time to find it.

November 2

Rain today. Late into the night. I haven't found it yet.