victory day

russian victory day is like july 4th, st. patrick's day, and the macy's thanksgiving parade all rolled into one. in st. petersburg, throngs of people swarm nevsky prospekt: officers bedecked in military regalia, teenagers adorned with headbands and paper-flower necklaces, tourists struggling with their cumbersome cameras, tripods, and metro maps. young women sashay down nevsky prospekt -- fingers intertwined with their love's -- while men laugh raucously and tell crude jokes; beer bottle clutched safely in hand.


it's curious to observe, victory day. one would assume russians are, for the most part, stoic and brooding. not today. toddlers, melted popsicle outlining their mouths like lipstick, perch precariously on their fathers' shoulders. vendors sell assorted ice cream and helium balloons while the doors of every cafe are thrown open, people milling about under the awning. laughter -- unrestrained, joyful laughter -- punctuates the simmering afternoon air. 
and the veterans stand silent and proud, thankful that today -- at least today -- they are being rightfully acknowledged.

a smiling couple on victory day.

police.



tourists.

 

veteran.

veteran.





the bibliobibuli.

veteran.

woman smoking.

playing at the fountain.

reach.

veteran.