To be in St. Petersburg is to tip-toe around the edges of a porcelain a faberge egg. There is something fragile, delicate, gilded about every memory I hold of my city. There is something romantic about its crooked and uneven pavements,…
I haven't quite figured out what this is all about
To be in St. Petersburg is to tip-toe around the edges of a porcelain a faberge egg. There is something fragile, delicate, gilded about every memory I hold of my city. There is something romantic about its crooked and uneven pavements,…