Find truth in the search that makes them feel whole.
In verses are mirrors of dreams and of strife,
Where fable and fact intertwine into life.
My life never dimmed when you came from afar,
Through freedom’s wild walls, through storms that did mar.
A dark-winged angel, you pierced through my veil,
Releasing my heart from its desolate jail.
I soared like a bird through a limitless sky,
Your arrows let loose made my spirit fly high.
Not demon, nor angel, just lost in life’s gale,
You found in my soul the safe harbour you’d trail.
Your burdens forgotten, your sorrows erased,
Your voice found in mine, your spirit embraced.
With faith and with truth, you anchored in me,
And saw in my gaze all you wanted to see.
Yet tangled are nets that you cast in the sea,
Your nights cold and weary, still searching for me.
With hope in your palm, your heart you bestowed,
Now beating in mine where its light has bestowed.
But restless am I, though your soul I hold tight,
For yours will not own me, not morning nor night.
My life’s made of steps, small and often unseen,
Each guiding me closer to what I must mean.
To master life’s reins, to awaken the soul,
To grasp my own worth and to seek my true goal.
Yes, life is a school, its lessons immense—
Could I tame the wild steed called happiness?
This is my tale…
“Manuscripts do not burn.” These immortal words by Bulgakov resonate deeply as I begin this journey – not a memoir in the conventional sense but fragments of a rebellious heart. Here lie myths, fragments of biography, and intuition, woven togewther to form a narrative as boundless as the tides of the Neva.
To write is to be alive. To write is to love, to wait, to hope, and to believe.
This is a story of resilience, a testament to inner freedom, and the discovery of one’s soul against the relentless backdrop of time and fate. It is about the strength we summon from within – not bestowed by the world, but born of our defiance against it. This is the story of how I became who I am, of a journey from Saint Petersburg’s frostbitten streets to the sunlit roads of South Africa.
SAINT PETERSBURG – THE CITY ON THE NEVA
Here, the river whispers to gilded spires and pastel façades, its voice an echo of a city steeped in history. The canals glisten like threads of silver beneath the twilight sky, and every bridge arches like a poised ballerina, connecting not just shores but centuries. This city is a dream frozen in time, a testament to resilience and splendour. The Neva itself, at once serene and tempestuous, mirrors the soul of Saint Petersburg – a soul as enigmatic as the lives that weave through it.