Naked May Day In Odessa (iPhone)

“Ready?” called the weightlifter. He didn’t wait for an answer. He just started jogging.

He didn’t think. He just ran, not back to his towel, but straight into the sea. The shock of it stole his breath. The militiaman on the steps shouted, “Hey! You! Stop!” But Lev dove under a wave.

Lev treaded water, his toes touching nothing. He was naked, bobbing in the cold, black sea, a stone’s throw from the motherland. He had lost his shoes, his pride, and his last shred of anonymity. Naked May Day in Odessa

Two militiamen, young and bored, were walking down the concrete steps from Arcadia. One held a radio, already crackling with orders. The other had his hand on his truncheon.

And Lev ran.

“The run is over!” the first one shouted. “This is a public beach! There are families!”

He looked at the water. It was still grey-green. Still indifferent. But it was also deep. “Ready

The first warm breath of May had finally melted the stubborn ice on the Potemkin Steps. For most of Odessa, this was the signal for Mayevka —the traditional spring picnics, the shashlik smoke curling under the chestnut trees, the first day it was acceptable to drink white wine outdoors.