there hasn't been a murder...

…but in order to prevent a death the police have cordoned off an area round my flat. winter in siberia can be a killer – if your car breaks down outside the city and no-one finds you in a couple of hours, you will probably die. however, spring is the real assassin. when the city starts to melt in the new season’s mawkish heat, it’s not just the putrid stench of tulips clogging your nose like poisonous gas you have to watch out for; it’s the small avalanches of snow tumbling off the rooftops too. there is at least 1.5 metres of snow on my balcony and when such thick compacted sheets slide off the roof in clumps 5-6 metres across, it can hurt you if it hits you. the icicles, on the other hand, hanging like crystal spears above the pavements, can actually kill you. they slice clean through car roofs when they fall from a tall enough building. when they hit a human head, the human will never eat blini again. each year several people here are killed in this way. they cordon off likely 'death-spots', such as the one near my flat, when they can, but they can’t shut the city down entirely, so when you go outside you play russian roulette with ice javelins. at least it takes your mind off the impending daffodil hell which will no doubt spew fetid fluorescent yellow cess all over the place sometime soon.