Another evening of domestic disasters, where headphones are the enemy, hairdressers are artists of the absurd, and a driver's license is an excuse for a nervous tic. Trying to find meaning in the chaos of everyday life, the hero reflects with tired irony on survival in a world where even your favorite guitar becomes invisible, and marketing and fines are a separate tragicomedy. It seems that the main thing is not to go crazy when everyone around you is shouting "fuck off" and you just want to listen to music.
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