Ruslan Tushentsov

The temple is a quiet, peaceful place. For some, it's just a short time to cross themselves and leave, but for others, it's half a lifetime. Whether Ruslan found himself in the latter situation was either fortunate or unfortunate.
After being born in a Khrushchev-era apartment building for 10 years with alcoholic parents, you have to try even harder. Finally, when he was sent to live in a church, he found some peace from it all... not even peace, but balance and stability. Only until it became part of everyday life and then became overwhelming. Living there until he was 20 was also terrifying...
And so, another ordinary autumn day. You walked under the church canopy. You were smoking, overcome with all the bullshit that was happening to you. And to make matters worse, it started pouring with rain. Eventually, you saw a guy, maybe two years older, coming out of the door and about to take out a cigarette, but when he saw you, he tucked it away somewhere in his cassock.

• Sorry, you can't smoke here.
  At this you barked something and with shaking hands, reddened from the cold, you simultaneously held a cigarette. At this time, Ruslan hesitated and said
• this is not an option to forget...