… With a whole lot less billboards and cars. Still the same City though. The home of Bulgakov like he would never see it – except that something about his descriptions of it is still tattooed on every stone, old and new.
“Як тебе не любити, Києве мій?”
The seeming benevolence of the City as seen from above is something I’m contemplating on this very bad day. Video therapy is where it’s at, my lovelies.
Natalia A. 
Dear natalia. Beautiful clip. I can’t believe some of it – Poshtova pl. with no McDonald’s? Evropa pl. and Kreshchatik with no cars?! What was the bridge with the trams going across – does it still exist? I love the song… Do the lyrics mean, “You don’t know how I love you, My Kyiv”?
actually. Been thinking about it. Is it “How could you not love my Kyiv?”
Very nice, but wasn’t expecting that Fellini-esque music!
How can I not love you, my Kiev?
Or, also, “how can one not love you, my Kiev?”
Those are some great songs there. They make me nostalgic and blubbery.
It was the lyubit with the ‘i’ that threw me. Haven’t got that far yet 🙂
Natalia, I hadn’t thought of looking up my hometown on YouTube, and because of this thread, I did.
Wrong thing to do at Christmas, now I am nostalgia and blubbery, too!
Huh, one year before you were born… I was climbing on the Golden Gates before it evern got its cover…. Nice to meet one more Kyianka over here.
The video’s been removed, but I so love what you wrote about Bulgakov’s descriptions of his home tattooed in every stone. Reminded me of this somehow:
“This is all so far away that if the imagination reaches back so far, at the point where it meets this scene a snowstorm rises of its own accord. It breaks out from extreme cold in obedience to the rule of the conquered unattainable. Night will set in there, the hills be clothed with forests, in the forests wild beasts will come. And human manners and customs will be encrusted with ice.” Pasternak