(canvas, oil, 50/50)
When words are forbidden, art is left to speak of war, of the utterly unspeakable pain that tears at the soul. I love to portray birds, they were my birds of joy, messengers of the spiritual world. Now my bird is defeated, caught, and killed. My grandfather defended Leningrad, and I am proud of the memory of my ancestors, but now I have become a hostage of a terrible crime in which everything has been reversed.