The call usually wakes you up in the middle of profound sleep at night. In the excitement you just jump into yesterday’s clothes, put a fistful of film rolls in your pockets and dash out to the action scene with your camera at the ready. A fire is always very easy to locate: its phantasmagoric gleam guiding you like a lighthouse from kilometres away.

Small Russian village on the north of Russia. It looks like many other villages in Russia which are situated far from the capital. The same old and poor, the same far-off and the same wild. But it’s more than an ordinary Russian village. This place is like a small spot in huge Siberia. Life between various small and big lakes, between smell of high trees, loud seagulls and endless days in summer time. Fishermen, insects, dogs and ruins like everywhere. People on the North are more friendly and communicative than in other parts of the country. The traditions and history…

  i walk … along the roads, through the streets … with every pace i take, more and more become closer ‘IT’s insisting footsteps … i know, no matter where i go, ‘IT’s sticky gloom is following me … chasing me like a perilous shadow, tracking ghostly … i go… into the night, underneath the darkness … i am like a beetle running away from the light and from that who wants to kill itself … desperately searching for a nook and corner to hide… but ‘IT’s inescapable presence falls on my soul as a murk … there ‘IT’ is:…