I locked myself in Kharkov in complete (if you don’t find fault with details) loneliness and communicated with myself and a little with the world through the prose website. ru and social a network that people don’t like to talk about anymore. So if the texts mention any images, then everything is there. Maybe these are stand-ups in front of the mirror, or maybe reports on “how I got to this point.” But in the end I cut my hair and left. All characters are fictitious, and any resemblance to real or living people is purely coincidental.