A nine-story panel building, four entrances, a hundred something apartments. Perhaps, every morning, you pass by this building on your way to the subway station, or its gray walls were visible from the window of a room in which you have not been for so long, and perhaps will never be again.
In the tenth apartment on the third floor, six-year-old Vitalik wakes up. He breathes heavily. This horrible dream again about a huge red excavator trying to bury him. The old refrigerator hums in the kitchen. On the walls there are shadows of a tall birch standing in the front garden. In the next room, the TV is barely audible – Mom drank cognac again and fell asleep during the evening news. Vitalik wraps himself in a heavy blanket with a tiger pattern. In his little curly head, an unknown melody starts playing, and suddenly, it becomes somehow calmer and happier. Later, in the future, he will turn on the the Bevissthet mix for 5/8: radio, he will unmistakably recognize it, and on a particular evening, he will also become a bit calmer and happier.
