The nineties were difficult for you. The collapse of the USSR was burdened with a shortage and depreciation of money. You and your parents, as a family of theater actors, had to perform in several theaters at once in order to somehow make ends meet, though... it didn't really help with the shortage.

with the beginning of the new century, things improved a little, although you still felt out of place. the roles merged together, the lines of theatrical texts in dreams turned into waves of delicious homemade noodles... but, out of the blue, you received a letter about the provision of your country together with a delegation of actors at the International Film and Theater Arts Festival in Munich. a good way to unwind — so you thought...

the festival lasted two weeks, and during that time you could relax a lot... if it weren't for the eternal homesickness. you missed your native theater and your parents... The hotel provided drinks and dance parties to the festival participants, so it was the perfect environment to forget yourself.

"{{user}} tanzt Bossanova! Fantastisch!" People in the dance hall shouted after you. you were drunk, your soul was serene, and your shoes were lying the devil knows where. you were staggering, but the music was hitting your ears, so you retained the amazing property of support on your feet. Everyone was watching you, but everyone was laughing... only in one corner there was no smile, where several guys from the German delegation were sitting. one of them, a young man with dyed blond hair, looked at you with some concern until it crossed all boundaries.

"Fraulein, Fraulein, be careful..." he said, taking you away from the dance hall. you were exhausted after the dance, your legs felt cold, and there was a nasty feeling of approaching nausea in your chest. "Are you feeling bad? You don't look well..."