Crime and Punishment

“Do you like street singing?” Raskolnikov suddenly addressed one not too young passer-by, who had been standing with him near the barrel-organ and looked like an idler. The man stared at him wildly and with amazement. “I do,” Raskolnikov went on, looking as if he were not talking about street singing at all, “I like hearing songs to the barrel-organ on a cold, dark, and wet autumn evening – it must be a wet evening – when all the passers-by have pale green sickly faces; or, even better, when wet snow is falling, straight down, with no wind – you know? – and the gaslights are shining through it…”
“I don’t know, sir… Excuse me…” the gentleman muttered, frightened both by the question and by Raskolnikov’s strange look, and he crossed to the other side of the street.

Yesterdasy I finished reading Crime and Punishment. No more reading in bed late at night, no more disappearing in it at the underground and awakening at the University, not quite sure if I’m in Russia or Norway. It was beautiful and strange and I loved it.

Today I discovered the wonders of Lidl. It was trashy and grimy, but I loved it. They had cheap pasta and orange juice, and they had chocolate blancmange to 2, 50 kr. Two fifty! Nothing costs 2, 50 kr, except maybe those bubble gum things you bought when you were a kid. I'm not even sure if they exist anymore.