FROM THE AUTHOR

The one from whose face - sometimes passionately, sometimes detachedly - this story is told is not a person, but an old, battered, but high-quality camera with a two-lens long-focus lens, which often shoots what It’s better not to take pictures, and sometimes even things that are completely impossible to take off. It not only registers the subtlest nuances of light and shadow, squeezed between the white and black poles of day and night, woman and man, sky and earth, spirit and body, good and evil, life and death, but also measures the passage of time by clicking its shutter, and its ultra-sensitive film (400T.MAX) is able to capture the radiance emitted by the Universe. Unfortunately, the person who has been tending and nurturing this antediluvian cell for thirty years is either an amateur and a dullard, or simply a klutz: and having passed fifty, he does not understand whether he is a pessimist or an optimist - know that he is catching the incomprehensible life of others with an unresponsive lens of people; his lips are stretched out in a selfless smile, and he is completely alone in the world.