Like Gold Dust

The Treasures of St. PetersburgThe Summer Days

Sennaya Square, Pauline’s Apartment It’s a hot, summer day in Saint Petersburg. Pauline is in her apartmentw; she is getting

ready to go out. The city is waking up.

10 o’clock

10 o’clock

Kazanskaya Street, Cafe “Lure”Pauline calls two of her friends.Before their rendez-vous, she goes to a small cafe for breakfast.

11 o’clock

The Five Corner Street, Klava’s Apartment Lida and Klava pick up their phone. They will be meting Pauline later in the day.

12 o’clock

12 o’clock

Sadovaya Street Pauline takes the tramcar to the center of the city.

1 o’clock

1 o’clock

Nevskyi ProspectThe three girls meet at the bridge.Sun light illuminates the streets.

2 o’clock

2 o’clock

Fontanki Embankment, The CanalThey walk past the Canal. A motorboat is approaching. Pauline looks at this city of the

water with nostalgia.

3 o’clock

3 o’clock

Big Sea Street, The FountainsShe approaches the fountains . Summer turns Petersburg magical. The city overflows with

lighness and music.

5 o’clock

Galernaya Street, Klava’s Car “Moskvich”The sun is setting. Pauline’s friend put s a tape on, in her car. The roofs glow with warm

light. The city is falling asleep.

8 o’clock

A summer in Saint Petersburg is

Like Gold Dust...

I t is a hot, summer day in Saint Petersburg.

Pauline is in her apartment; she is getting ready to go out. The city is waking up. Pauline calls two of her friends.Before the rendez-vous, she goes to a small , local-cafe “Lure”, for breakfast. Lida and Klava pick up their phone. They will be meting Pauline later in the day. Pauline takes the tramcar to the center of the city.

The three girls meet at the bridge.Sun light illuminates the streets.

T hey walk past the Canal. A motorboat is

approaching. Pauline looks at this city of the water with nostalgia. She approaches the sparkling foun-tains.Summer turns Petersburg magical. The city overflows with lighness and music. The sun is set-ting. The streets become emptier. Pauline’s friend puts a tape on, in her old, orange car “Moskvich”. The roofs glow with warm light. The city is slowly falling asleep.

Maryia Sakalouskaya