This project is my reflection on childhood. I am returning to the village where I come from. It no longer feels like home, but there is a serene calm and silence that envelops me. Almost nothing changes in this place: the same nice people with their strong beliefs, the same pothole-ridden asphalt, the same lights out at night. Only I have changed here. Linovo (that's the name of my village) stigmata on my body, leaving indelible tattoos of memories. So I used the technique of multi-exposure, where I combine night photographs of the countryside, taken over several years, with images of the naked body.

Memories envelope me as I walk down familiar streets. It's been a long time, but I still remember so well what happened to me for the first time in this area.

A moment when I was still in the 8th grade. A girl was riding a bicycle, and the muscles in her lower leg were rhythmically tensing to the beat of the pedal. I watched mesmerized. I had never seen anything more beautiful and exquisite. That was how I first experienced admiration.

Fishermen on the lake. Someone caught a small crucian carp and threw it on the sand. The fish's lip is torn, blood oozing from it. The crucian carp rhythmically expands its gills to capture air. Jumping along the shore, sand adheres to his slime. Mindlessly and stupidly, the fish stares with its eye. I become disgusted and disgusted. That's how I first experienced disgust.

I remember I was about 4 years old. There was a fire. A house on our street was burning. My grandmother wrapped me in a blanket and took me out into the yard. The firemen arrived, but the fire had already spread to the roof of the neighboring house. The next one was ours. I cried and watched the neighbors try to knock the fire off the roof. That's how I experienced real fear for the first time.

A dog crawled to our house and lay down near the fence. Her eyes were crazy and glassy, she was already dying. Then my grandmother and I went to our neighbor's house and froze at the exit. When we realized that the animal could no longer move, we slowly went to the wicket. A couple hours later, the dog passed away. Grandma said it was rabies. That was how I first experienced the feeling of the presence of death.

I remember painting a picture with watercolors. I was splashing paint off the brush. It turned out that I had inadvertently smudged the white wallpaper. As payback, I was made to kneel in the corner on buckwheat and was not allowed to watch my favorite cartoon. I was picked up by my stepfather who came home. He brought a kite and together we flew it into the field across the street. That was the first time I experienced the power of punishment.

When I was a little girl, I was often very sick. My grandfather was a hunter, so he kept a husky named Buran. At some point the money for good food for the dog was no longer enough, and my grandfather had to give the dog to other hunters. That day I got sick again (can't remember what it was about). At some point my grandmother took me in her arms and carried me to the window. There, standing on his hind legs and wagging his tail, stood Buran. He had escaped from the next “new” owners, traveled dozens of kilometers and returned home. That was the first time I experienced what true loyalty is.

I was 6 years old. I woke up in the night because of the noise and light. When I opened my eyes, my mom was standing on the doorstep with my things. The thought flashed through my sleepy mind that she was leaving. I started crying and asking her to stay, but she didn't listen and slammed the door. All night my grandparents tried to calm my hysterics by giving me valerian. That was the first time I experienced betrayal.

I remember a warm fall evening. My grandmother once again unreasonably refused to let me visit my friends, even though I had agreed with her in advance. When she refused, I took a stone from the ground and broke the window with it. That was the first time I experienced real rage.