And what a beautiful city it was. Not one with the longest history, but the one with one of the richest. As if millenniums of happenings were crammed together in just three centuries, greased by money invested, sprinkled with imported culture. It said something that during these three hundred years the city had time to be renamed not just once, or twice, but thrice—from Saint Petersburg to Petrograd to Leningrad and back to Saint Petersburg.
But it was one thing for me to like this city where I grew up, or for tourists that came to look at all the museums and art galleries, and another for a demon/angel from another dimension to like it.
"If he's so good, the demon, he'd be good enough to go and like some other place. One that's far away from people. Like Antarctica. Now that's be just great," was my last word on this topic. "Come on, Ghost. We have people waiting for us."
