“The end of a party is the nicest thing”, says Jessica around 4 am in the morning on the 9th floor of a Southern Moscow apartment. I couldn’t agree more. The coolest people hang around, people sit, smoke, stare and listen. The stereo plays ‘Noir Desir’, ever good French band with an imprisoned front man. “Do you know what the kids-choir sings in the end?”, she asks. When I listened again it figured that even a French rock band seems to know a word of Russian.

Noir Desir – L’Homme Presse

Love, love love
Dit-on en Amerique
‘Lyubov’ Russie, ex-Sovietique
Amour – aux quatre coins de France.

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