Moscow’s Rhythm and HSE Life
In Moscow, silence is rare. The city never slows down, neither does student life at the Higher School of Economics. Deadlines, projects, exams, and late-night study sessions all move to the same urban rhythm. Sometimes it feels like the university itself breathes with the city: fast, restless, curious. We are writing this piece to show that rhythm to see how living and studying here shapes the way we connect with others, and with ourselves. More than that, we want to share why these moments matter: how the energy around me, the small interactions, and the life of the city give meaning to everyday student life.
Every day, we rush between metro stations, lectures, and cafés, surrounded by people yet lost in our own thoughts. Social media notifications, assignment deadlines, and the constant motion of the streets all pull us along - it’s easy to feel caught in the city’s pulse, moving fast without really noticing. And yet, there are moments when everything quiets down: sitting by the window in the library, watching the light fade over the glass atrium on Pokrovsky Boulevard, or taking a late walk through almost-empty streets. Sometimes the most meaningful reflections in Moscow happen in these pauses, when you’re alone but not lonely, noticing yourself and the world around you. This city connects us, but it also teaches distance - a strange kind of solitude in motion. And maybe that’s what HSE teaches too: to find meaning in the noise, and to listen, even when everything around is loud.
Between People and Places
Sometimes we realize that all this is the rush, the noise, the deadlines - isn’t just about keeping up. It’s also about the people around us. At our university, in classrooms, on the campus, or even when passing someone in the hall, small moments stand out - a quick smile, a few words exchanged, a shared laugh. You notice a student sitting on the steps outside, quietly drawing or reading, or someone stopping briefly before leaving a classroom. Even simple actions, like how someone organizes their notebooks or packs up their things, can catch your attention. These moments don’t last long, but they make you aware of the people around you, even when everyone seems focused on their own tasks. Watching how others move, talk, or sit quietly gives a sense that the city and the university are alive with small, everyday connections.
What really excites me is seeing how alive the HSE feels at different times of the day. Watching students collaborate on a project, debate ideas, or just laugh over a shared joke gives me energy - it’s inspiring to see people fully engaged in what they do. I also feel good when I can make someone’s day brighter, even with something small like a compliment or a kind word. Writing this article is my way of sharing that energy, of showing that the university is not just a place of work and study, but a space full of life, curiosity, and small moments that matter. I hope readers can see it too, and maybe start noticing these little sparks around them in their own lives. Let this part be a reminder that even in a fast-moving city during busy study days, small acts and mini-connections can make life feel warmer, more human, and full of possibility.
The Rhythm of the City
The city is always on, and we follow that sleepless pattern. Moscow’s rhythm is like an organism that sets its own tempo - it is a fast one, almost pulsating, and it does not stop. Between early metro journeys and work until midnight, the feeling of time almost doubles. One doesn’t even see the minutes disappear into the noise of the traffic and of the incoming messages. Everyone is running at high speed, but somehow there are not any extra hours. Students have become the city’s hostages: lectures merge with part-time jobs, coffee turns into a source of energy, and letters become the language of communication. The campus of HSE seems going the same way - the lights of the screens are still on, ideas are delivered in fragments, the people are always on the move. No less than a part of the urban symphony, silence is very seldomly felt. Paradoxically, a certain charm may be found in this inexhaustible motion - the buzz of ambitions, the combined tiredness, and the tacit agreement that to stop even for a very short time, is to be left behind.
However, this rhythm contains a peculiar harmony. The disorder becomes reassuring, as if it were a common language of movement. You no longer count your days by hours but by metro stops, tasks completed, and messages left unread. Even the streets seem to pulse with life, pushing you ahead, telling you that if you stop, you will be missing out. Yet, in fact, at times, amidst the crowd, you happen to see some stillness - a student stopping and listening to music, a stranger looking at the sky instead of their phone. The city is still moving, but for a moment, time is frozen and that is when you understand how fast it is.
The Need for Quiet
After a wild time, people usually seek quietness. The noise of the city is never extinct - actually, it is still there, but it changes its form: the sound of neon lights, the gentle voice of trams at night, and the continuous scrolling of social media pages. However, silence is there too - though it is weak, it is still existent. One may discover it in libraries, where time seems to slow down between reading pages, or in coworking spaces when night falls and people stop typing on their keyboards. At times it may be also the walk along the embankment after midnight when Moscow lets down its guard. Solitude that used to be dreadful, nowadays has turned into a kind of medicine. During those very scarce breaks, the thoughts become clear and the confusion caused by the city is gradually resolved. On occasions, the deepest conversations in Moscow may be the ones that occur without a word spoken - between two people gazing at the skyline, silent, but communicating everything. HSE students can find their peace in a place called atrium in the “Pokrovka” building.
During the few times when there is no noise, the city seems to be almost another planet, a kinder one that is more human. The silence turns into a mirror reflecting not only the city's neglected parts but also the aspects of our personality that we usually overlook. It is in this silence that Moscow shows its secret rhythms: the gentle rustling of leaves in a quiet yard, the sound of a lighter in an alley where someone is stopping to think, not to hurry.
Even the cold, which was once considered harsh, becomes a friend that invigorates the senses and makes one feel grounded in the now. People do not stumble upon these serene spots but rather find them through their senses and not by chance. A little café with no music, only the sound of cups and people talking in low voices. A church, not for prayer but for taking a breath. The top deck of a night bus, where the things happening outside look like a silent movie.
These instances of silence remind us that silence is not void but full of being. It does not request anything, but gives everything. This is when the bonds between people grow stronger. The use of words to connect individuals is no more necessary. A glance, a shared silence, an unspoken understanding found in quiet which is often more honest than the length of conversation.
Perhaps, that is what the city, in its rare tender moments, is trying to convey to us: beyond the clamor, the hustle and the stress, there is peace and in peace, lies truth.
Conclusion
In the end, Moscow, like HSE, is full of contrasts. It’s loud and restless, always pushing us to move faster, but inside all that noise there are moments that quietly matter. Between lectures and metro rides, between sleepless nights and early mornings, you start to realize that the city’s rhythm isn’t just about keeping up - it’s about feeling alive in the middle of it all. Silence here doesn’t mean everything stops. It’s more like a breath - a short pause that lets you see things clearly again: how sunlight hits the buildings, how someone smiles at you in passing, how the city softens for a second. These small pauses make the rush worth it. Moscow never really slows down, but maybe that’s what it teaches us: how to find our own stillness even when everything keeps moving - and how, in those moments, to find ourselves too.
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