СПАСАТЕЛЬНЫЙ КРУГ

It sounds like the diary of a man who has 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 armour. Cynicism, brought to perfection, coexists with an almost adolescent defiance: trust no one, believe in no miracles, and stay afloat solely through your own malice.

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.