(Feel free to delete if this doesn't belong here!)

Well, it's the common assignement: three hundred words in English about a European city. I have -of course- chosen St. Petersburg (having been there last month). However, my English isn't perfect. Could anyone please read this and comment with the most obvious mistakes?
If it's totally beside the point, or unreadable, you may say so too. I'm not really a concrete person.

Thank you!

(Please don't shoot me. These are just my impressions. I sincerely love the city and just want those people to know about it, even if I can't express myself properly. I am also learning Russian.)


"‘…To walk under this sky, along the brown granite embankments of this immense grey river, is in itself an extension of life and a school of farsightedness.’
Joseph Brodsky, A Guide to a Renamed City

They had not warned me about the light. It was the first thing I noticed – the kind of light that takes you to its own world. And before you realise it, you are lost. Fascinated.
Saint Petersburg does things to the brain. It breeds literature, revolutions and other nonsense faster than Venice does pigeons. It is much more than a formal beauty. It is the most sincere truth and the most flamboyant illusion. Maybe it isn’t a city at all. Maybe it is just a state of mind. A diseased, unbalanced, potentially dangerous, irresistibly charming state of mind.

Saint Petersburg has always been spoiled by its children. Indeed, it is much more than a city that they love. It is the heroic, rebellious, unbreakable testimony of a complex history. The timeless beauty they resurrected. Founded three hundred years ago to reinvent Russia, it has since been bruised, broken and rebuilt. It still has more dedicated enemies than you thought a city could have. Tragedy and cynicism, truth and illusion, faith and madness: the city is like its people – full of contradictions.

Saint Petersburg does not live in our reality. Actually, it probably does not live in reality at all. Dostoyevsky calls it 'the most premeditated, most abstract city in the world'. Inspired by Paris, Amsterdam or Vienna – and yet always betrayed by something different. Something in the colours. In the Neva. Among the passers-by. Something floating all over the Nevsky Prospekt. Something that might be the very essence of the White Nights.

Do not tell me you haven’t noticed. I would as soon believe that you have forgotten the tea and the blini, or the depth of the metro. Forgotten the cats of the Hermitage, and the Russian museum. The long walks. All those palaces. All those masterpieces. Even the passers by.
Be careful: they are all haunted. You felt it. It’s in the skies. You don’t want to know what that kind of weather does to the human soul.
Beware that city! The spirit that lives there isn’t natural. Such perfection cannot be real. It might deceive you. It might enslave you.
These words are barely mine; like the city itself, I have read too much. Too many strange stories. It would, of course, have been much wiser never to have set foot there.
But I have now done my duty. Do not pretend you haven’t been warned."