Do not crap

The naked girl is spread out on a large advertising shield - he is languidly under the falling (in every sense) dollar. This is the Absent Toples Club on the street with a characteristic name clinical ... This is the city of Kaliningrad.

The All -Union Starost, in honor of which the annexed Prussian outpost was renamed, would shudder when he got here today. However, if, having risen from under the columns of the Cathedral, Immanuel Kant looked at his homeland with one eye, he would immediately give oak a second time.

The meeting of civilizations looks almost moralizing here.

The normal post-Soviet city is slot clubs and strip bars on gaps of gifted roads, with pits of an excellent European service in the middle of the frozen seventies. Kaliningrad is striking in this particular - the ghost of Koenigsberg.

Suddenly, among the Khrushcho and other typical boxes, behind a cast -iron twisted fence, a mansion with an encircling ornament darkened from centuries grows up. Suddenly, next to the inevitable stone Ilyich, a whole quarter, as if sewn here with a whole piece carved along the pattern somewhere in the Upper Saxony. For some reason, only the street is called-Pugachev ...

Pugacheva Street, Razina Street, Komsomolskaya Street - A good walk in Kant's homeland!

It was not Russian civilization that “scoop” replaced the German here. He stayed here, almost not noticing the change of rhetoric. Colorless and hopeless, like these living boxes.

Huge letters, carefully planted with flowers on the oblique of the bloomed lake, "GTRK" (a state company, must be understood) —- they look an unconvincing replacement for the usual "glory to work!". A camouflage tunic on an uncle, a punitive float at a bloated canal, is a weak sign of new times: Tina around the float is the same that with expensive Leonida Ilyich, and frogs are just as selfless in the pond as they sang under Kant - and in the same language.

Nearby, also with a fishing rod, the old man in a cap with a beer spares life with a beer. On the cap, it is written by Yamaha, on the Tuborg beer, but everything is written on the face, the same, dear to pain ...

In the place of the German medieval castle, which was already blown up by Brezhnev, rises in the central square, the main “unfinished” monument, a huge “unfinished” - a regional committee, or something ... now it is too expensive, too pointless. Time has already tried here; The weeds began to hack and put concrete slabs on the hind legs, in an unusual number, it was once laid down, to see, in anticipation of some honorary guards ...

If my will, I would take here middle -class schoolchildren from all over the Kaliningrad region and showed them this monstrous concrete tooth of a dead dragon. Dead, but not buried and therefore stinking. I would show the children a view of Kant's island from here, from the “Paradox” cafe - so that the roof and spire of the cathedral are inscribed in the monstrous context of the Soviet landscape. This may be a good start to the course of our recent history - however, not quite according to the textbook of Filippov ...

At the same time, you can tell the children what a paradox is. Come on the best place to explain!

... In the summer, excavations were on the island of Kant. Aunt-Excursion, who carried us on a small boat along the River Pregole, claims: near the grave of the great philosopher they found something ancient, representing a great historical value ...

I think: maybe they finally dug up a moral imperative?