shtozh poigraem — 5/8 : Radio #256

You're standing on the embankment of an old town, pieced together like a construction kit from dozens of different places you've already been. Ahead lies a wide strait, where large cargo ships glide slowly past. On the opposite shore, veiled in a light haze, are the crimson lights of a TV tower and the sharp spire of a town hall, hemmed in on all sides by intricate old houses. You absolutely must get there. Against the sunset sky, painted in every shade of orange, seagulls circle noisily. In your hand is a crumpled paper ticket for the ferry, which stubbornly refuses to dock, though it's long overdue. Suddenly, from the cheap eatery behind you — where middle-aged men in loose shirts, sitting at plastic tables with empty shot glasses and unlabeled bottles of cheap liquor, are locked in a chess match — a mix by shtozh poigraem for 5/8: radio begins to play. And you want to stay. To listen to the music, to watch the waves break against the embankment stones, and to wait for the night to descend upon the city