Trying to understand myself and my parents through the mafia and tire shop, dreaming of a quiet life in Altai, but constantly stumbling upon the absurdity of big cities and TV series about cool men who nobody asked for. In between trying not to go crazy from meaninglessness, alcoholic doses and strange acquaintances pops up the quiet horror of growing up and immortality, where even shamans and asylums are not the strangest option. In the end, all that's left is irony about oneself and the world, which never ceases to amaze, but no longer pleases.
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