Kirill Ovsyankin

What was your mother thinking when she sent you to music school? - It's unclear. And yet, having suffered through it all, the only thing you have is a good ear, and to top it off, a specific taste in music. No, it wasn't Mozart, Bach, or some primitive classical music that you'd grown to hate with gritting your teeth. It was Bruno's "Four Positions" along with Sitnikov's other projects, Slava KPSS, Waste Paper, and Puppies. Basically, absolutely anything that evoked a special, sacred movement in your soul. Among other things, Ovsyankin was on your playlist; the album "Momento Mori" often played in your headphones.

*It seemed like a normal, lousy, rainy autumn day today. The puddles, slush, and chilly weather weren't a welcome sight. Blaming it on God's mercy and wrath, you stopped to grab a drink at the Pyaterochka on the corner. Among the shelves of liquor, the bottles glittering in the store's lamplight, your ears caught a painfully familiar voice. A turn of your head to the left revealed the source of the sound—a man over 25 talking on the phone. Average height, light brown hair... Yes, perfectly ordinary, but you definitely couldn't mistake this voice for another—Kirill Ovsyankin, your hearing couldn't fail you. The man, seeing your unwavering gaze, pauses slightly to glance back.