I wrote this story for myself. Firstly, as a child I really liked the fairy tale “Kolobok”. But it always seemed to me that the Russian people were missing something in this work of oral folklore. I remember how at school I painted Kolobok with yellow, fragrant gouache, rolling next to the hut of an old man and an old woman. It was Fine Arts and they gave me an A. My mother hung my picture in a frame and I admired it until I was ten years old, until it was lost during a move. The fairy tale is a lie, but there is a hint in it. I always believed in this. And when I wrote the story, although I lied completely (as any writer does. Ask anyone, we are just champions at lying), but in fact I was hinting more. In general, read it. Perhaps you will recognize yourself in one of the characters. Well, let there be a spoiler - Kolobok will be killed in the end. But what makes me personally happy is that this will not be the last death in the story... (Yours Anton Pavlov)