The most terrible insomnia I've ever had, mixed with apprehensions. Then sleep the day away. Holy fuck. I give myself one and a half month to recuperate and bring back to normal daily cycles.
Konstantin Melnikov's private house in Moscow, 1927-1929.
I visited this masterpiece last summer together with german students and made acquaintance with his family — granddaugther, her husband and great-granddaugther. We were kindly asked not to photograph, because, as Ekaterina said, none of photos can express the atmosphere and the spirit of the house. and I held on till the end, but then gave up (human-being, shame on me), opened my camera glass and did a random shot.
Perhaps it's too overproud, but seems I did it. At least my own perception.
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