Our Reviews

About Dad, About how the "dead" comes to life inside, And also about how one can overlook their own result.
My parents divorced when I was less than two years old, so I don’t remember us as a family.
It was just me and my mom, and there was Dad, who appeared occasionally, like a holiday.
There was a lot of pain in that place during my childhood: I always missed my father, I dreamed that my parents would one day be together again… In general, I think this point is familiar and understandable to many.

Later, in the evening, memories started to come back to me.
I remembered where and how I started smoking, I recalled my feelings (only now I see them more deeply), I saw a broken girl running away from home, where everything is complicated, where there is no safety, and where nothing depends on her.
And this girl buys herself cigarettes and feels as if something in her life is now under control (like, if she wants to, she goes out to smoke).
It’s that feeling, you know, as if I’m making my life somehow more predictable (read "safe").