Kyiv: the City of High Heels and Brotherly Love

These shoes aren’t made for walking, unless you count quick hops from my parents’ car into a shop and back again:

"... and good leg it was." - Kate Atkinson
"... and good leg it was." - Kate Atkinson

I do love the way I look in them, though. I also love that lamp. It’s nice to have it on when I’m reading Tolkien in bed, and listening to the wing making the poplars creak at the old cemetery.

Speaking of shops, it seems that every time I come home, the service around these parts seems to get a little bit better. The last time I shopped at Brocard inside Globus mall (which is directly under Maidan Nezalezhnosti, or Independence Square), an assistant reacted to being asked a perfectly reasonable question by acting as if I had just asked her to give me her firstborn in a pot with dill on the side. This time, someone even carried my purchases to the cashier (OK, so they probably do it so people won’t shoplift, but still, it’s kinda nice, and plus, they don’t act like you’re trying to shoplift).

Now this gentleman next to me here is the most gentlemanliest of all:

isn't he a darling?
isn't he a darling?

He’s the reason why my wallet is always empty and my nights are full of paranoid nightmares regarding the costs of college education. He likes football, Star Wars, singing songs in funny voices, and is widely considered to be The Best Kid Ever.

One thought on “Kyiv: the City of High Heels and Brotherly Love

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