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Sacred Haven of Debauchery

#18142
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We have some amusing things happening in our town because of these frosts. The temperature drops to -40 degrees, and some things freeze to the seats in the buses, where, by the way, you can only see anything through the driver's window. The doors, by the way, are closed by the passengers themselves, since the Western automation is not designed for such temperatures. Eyelashes and the tips of hair sticking out from under hats are covered with frost, which also gives a certain flavor to the local population. And it's especially fun for men with mustaches; they have pieces of ice or snow hanging down like icicles. And yes, you see a lot of people in traditional Russian clothes: hats with earflaps, felt boots, and mittens several times a day.

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O God of Earth and Altar,
Bow down and hear our cry,
Our earthly rulers falter,
Our people drift and die,
The walls of gold entomb us,
The swords of scorn divide,
Take not thy thunder from us,
Take away our pride.


G.K. Chesterton: English Hymnal