Portra – Where is Gordypops?

I smashed my phone. Or so I thought. As I went down the stone stairs inside our building to go on my habitual midnight run through Gorky Park. The stairs are dimly lit. My phone fumbled clumsily out of my hands then flapped down screenside like a dead fish on a chopping board. I bought my phone cheap just over a year ago.

We have an ongoing battle – she and I.

I am anti apple. She isn‘t. She has had two phones in 8 years. I’ve had four. All cheap. One I lost in a Crimean Taxi near Yaltra. And one the battery was only a little too quick running out of charge. Another fell into the toilet. I actually still have it and it still works. Actually, I think that‘s the one with the battery problems. The current one has two sims. I need this just now having a foot in two countries.

And the current one is on it‘s second screen. It also has a dodgy power plug. Of course when I saw it had cracked, I asked myself, to repair or replace. I hate to lose an argument. I want a phone that can last forever! So, I spend all day looking for a new phone. I find rugged phones. You can drop them from great heights and even take them swimming. And, after too much online time, I find THE PHONE. I plan my great adventure to the outskirts of the Moscow Metropolis.

And, as I am about to go on this odyssey, I tell her. I had kept quiet about my phone breaking because of this running competition we have. She asks to see my phone and then strips off the cracked protective glass she had put on months ago without me noticing. The screen is completely intact.

Hmmmm….

Anyway, anyway. We went to a kiddies park. I travelled through town a little. I shot a film. The pictures don‘t always match the words folks.