Masha Vasyukevich is that chic woman who chooses irony and healthy skepticism towards her own and other people's reality instead of the usual standup brilliance. Her characters are no strangers to either pointless attempts to pass their driver's license or a rusty traffic cop in the form of a homemade toaster.
Vasyukevich observes everyday absurdity, where Avito becomes a confessional cubicle and coffee becomes a test for the strength of the psyche. The generational metamorphosis and longing for the lost here sounds almost like a refined ritual that no one has believed in for a long time. No pathos: only sarcasm against the backdrop of technological chaos and a good-neighborly wink through the cracks of epochs.
