iG.STUDiO: Ilya I. Gerasimenko

So, we've moved. Many things are different, starting from street parking, and all the way up the annoyance scale to cockroaches and ever-present puddle in the elevator. It's surprising, how many people are afraid of dogs in our neighborhood. It's like it isn't New York (and it isn't, it's Brooklyn). But what is New York? Or, to be precise, what were my expectations of becoming a New Yorker? Quite frankly, I didn't have any well-formed ones, and as a result, I'm not really disappointed. In theory, yes, it's a city of opportunities, fortune, fame and all the good stuff. Money, for instance. For some people, that is. Still a good thing. In practice, however, it's just a relatively big city, where many people live, mostly because they were born here, and don't know any other places, except this one. Some, and many, too, do move in from other places, though, in search of a bright future. This is why service sucks in so many places around here, in

I haven't written anything for so many months, that it's almost impossible to select a starting point for this entry, and unless you are bloggin reluctantly every second you can, an entry needs one. I could start, perhaps, at the time of our move to New York, that would be a good one: 2005, middle of June; my contract with Goodyear is over, there is nothing more to expect from Cleveland, we need to do something, and that something, according to Evelyna, is nothing less than just moving to New York. The logic was impeccable: it doesn't matter, where not to have a job, but there we will be together. To those, who tried to rent an apartment in any of the boroughs, good luck. To those, who tried to rent an apartment without having a job, my condolences. To those, who succeeded, hats off. I had one week, before my "current" pay stub would start to look suspicious at least. That explains (sort of), why we ended up in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, and even that was not ea