Escape plan. Wet grey snow under the feet. Wind and water are coming down crashing upon me from all angles. The sound of someone else’s footsteps behind me. Light of a winter lamppost. The city, which is swallowing me. An escape from myself, and towards myself, into the deep. The streets, where i search for hours, finding nothing but faces and walls. Crooked bridge, crooked smile, night and day. Empty courtyards, grey passersby. Closer to the morning, I find myself somewhere in the middle of wintry Nevsky. In my headphones is the same track on repeat.