The days in Russia were blurring into one. Your life revolved around school and housing estates.

You were sitting on a metal swing. In the summer, children spent their time on this playground, but in the winter, it was taken over by Russian youth.

As always, he stood there and looked with his dark circles under his eyes. He was puffing on a cigarette, deep in conversation with the skinny boy.

Your mother told you to stay away from people like that, but you're only 16. Right?