For the finally free and finally lonely "existential" person, forgiveness is hard work. Difficult not only because it allows only one form of responsibility - to oneself, but also because it often turns into the fault of the "forgiver". This guilt becomes the only, albeit painful, basis of his existence, the source of almost impossible words that forgiveness is both misfortune, and seduction, and madness, and punishment of the body, and lies, and truth, and crime, and unforgiveness, in the end . Driven by the difficult work of forgiveness, Polina Barskova's prose proves with these almost impossible words that forgiveness can be translated into the last form of art accessible to an "existential" person - the art of looking at people through a terrible historical small scope and seeing them in a huge, saving approximation.