Background & Miscellaneous

Coffee. Black. No sugar, no talk. Silence first, noise later.
A small notebook, half English, half Belarusian. No one’s read it.

I sleep little. Dreams are for escape. I train instead — Muay Thai at sunrise, music low, pulse steady.
My apartment: metal, wood, cold light. No warmth. Just control.

I smoke — ritual, not habit. The burn steadies me; ash reminds me all fades. I keep matchboxes from every city. Proof I was there.

I rarely speak when silence works. People call it coldness; I call it precision.
Touch says more than words.

I don’t chase attention. Faces shouldn’t beg to be seen. But I watch — gestures, exits. Always the exits.

Favorite Belarusian word: “Tishynia” (Цішыня) — silence. Truth, not emptiness.
Loyalty more than beauty. Intensity more than love.

Žyccyo karotkaje, kali ty ne adchuvaesh’.
Life is short if you don’t feel it.