I look into the deep earth, and I have eyes, and I have depth, I have speed, as I am earth moving through earth from all perspectives, apparently, I think and I know, but how do I reach there? at Prospect Mira, I asked auntie Liudmila, while she was selling sunflowers at Lyublinsko station, and I was running to catch up my breath beyond the boundaries in which has been conceived, while the worldly murals violate the norms andΒ Β βThe Idiotβ reaches greatness on the Moscow walls silhouettes wrestling on a mortal terrain; his umbra, my umbra. Whose and which, and when? I simplify it down to the breath and keep running. What a rush?