The heavier the burden of accumulated experience becomes and the denser the thickets of fate become, the comparatively easier the picture of fluttering childhood seems, when the wings of support from teachers brought what seems like a miracle in adulthood: a feeling of the undeniable need for creativity, the certainty of the existence of an audience (be it a concert at a music school or reading their own poems in literature classes), the readiness of any performers in the city to learn a new

Black, blue, orange, bright red, draw me such stains that I can’t wash them off, when I get back late at night, I'll wake up the dog from the top floor, she will whine and scratch the door and then fall in basement on the back of a stray cat. They will look into the eyes of those who rise in the elevator, but will never rise above the stairs not even a fire department, but a library one, will watch black and white TV, news from the middle of the century, from the Ostankino Tower.

To fellow Muscovites Do you remember me? When you feel sad about friends, Executed, exiled, grieving in prison, When he comes, I will remember you too: civil way I want to see in your foreign faces. Where are you now, friends? For the knight's neck Brother Ryleev was hanged on the shameful scaffold; I know - woe to those peoples who Some prophets are beaten, others are kept in fear.

Young Nick Land My translation of a short old article by Nick Land from the collection Fanged Noumena. The article is notable not only for its content, but also for its special frame of mind. Nick Land is a very significant figure for modern materialism, i.e. speculative realism and related philosophical movements. In particular, it should be noted that Ray Brassier and Ian Hamilton Grant were Land's direct students.

The Ad Marginem publishing house, together with the Garage Museum of Contemporary Art, has released perhaps the most glamorous and candid book of the twentieth century, which contains the daily recordings of the famous American artist and king of pop art. In the preface to a huge one - a thousand pages long! — in The Andy Warhol Diaries, his editor immediately warns that the reader will have to work a little hard if he wants to understand what's what in this story.

Every new direction in art and philosophy must begin with a manifesto. It will be the same for us. Although there is not much newness in neo-existentialism, we stand on the shoulders of giants. In defiance of postmodernism, which is experiencing an obvious crisis for everyone, I propose to return to the ideas of such great people as Sartre, Camus, Exupery, Kierkegaard, Buzzati, Andreev, Golding, Jaspers and Frankl. But will we forget Melville and Rabelais, Fowles and Akutagawa, Hesse and Frisch?

Germany, Freiburg. A man walks through a ruined city in search of food 1945© Werner Bischof/Magnum Photos If you look closely at the masonry of a few houses in the Altstadt district of Dresden, you will notice that the stones in this masonry are of different colors. Some stones are dark and seem to be smoked (in fact, they are really smoked), while others are light, the shade of baked milk.