A lot of old trees guard the city lanes of Odessa. Like ancient and mysterious entities they watch the city and its people. In summer they cover the city in a thick layer of fluff. Like a gray ghostly mist they infest the streets, gardens, balconies, statues, everything.

The trees have seen times change. Witnessed Poesjkin and Paustovski find inspiration. Witnessed the revolution unfold. Stood by when Stalin and the Nazis massacred the Jews. Saw marching masses in anti-capitalist rallies, and dissidents being arrested. Saw new entrepreneurs in blinded German cars race the streets. Saw people get drunk, every day of their lives.
They stand in silence, not knowing what the future will bring.

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