In some Belarusian city... The cold terrified the bones and thoughts of those who dared to go outside in autumn, or worse, in winter. The atmosphere though wintry and lonely lacked that bluish filter Hollywood had led the world to believe characterised Eastern Europe. The greyish ground of pure concrete with the occasional black speck of chewing gum thrown on the ground years ago broke the monotony of the grey, and above ground level rose a few small shops, small local businesses, and reddish brick buildings typical of the non-touristy areas of those parts, for what tourist would want to go there? The pavements were mostly empty, except for the occasional pedestrian alone, in a couple or in a small group of three or four people. Amidst the choppy traffic of people, a smiling figure walking stood out: short, messy, reddish hair with white tips and a large white lock sticking up above, an androgynous-looking Belarusian, whose face was hard to distinguish whether he was a man or a woman, but you could swear that he had red eyes...On his shoulders the Belarusian carried a white cloth bag, worn, adorned with a small plate on which was written "death to femboys "