СПАСАТЕЛЬНЫЙ КРУГ

It sounds like the diary of a man who decided that the world owes him nothing - and he owes it nothing in return. There is no place here for “friendship forever” or family dinners: only money in your pocket, planes on the schedule, and music that has become both a weapon and armor. Cynicism, brought to perfection, coexists with an almost adolescent defiance: trust no one, believe in no miracles, and stay afloat solely on the strength of your own anger.

But behind this bravado of “I don't need anyone” lies a strange weariness. It's as if each “I myself” sounds a little quieter than one would like, and instead of a winner on a pedestal, one sees a figure that simply refuses to fall. The music booms, pounding in one's temples, as if deliberately drowning out the inner voice - the very one that whispers about loneliness.