Near the slush and mud of a busy intersection, Misha Pavlovich scans the passing traffic in search of his next customer. It is almost 3 p.m. on a raw mid-December day, and darkness is already seeping from the grey skies over central Moscow. But with light snow falling and the temperature hovering around the freezing mark, it is a good day for 13-year-old Misha’s business—washing the grime from the cars along Tverskaya Boulevard.
As the days dwindle down to a precious few, the reality is more clear. The mists disappear and the smoke dissolves. The crystal ball unclouds and mysteries cease being mysteries. All seems logical and the truth apparent. The coming year loses its perplexity and becomes understandable.By Allan Fotheringham4 min
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