Oil on canvas
I haven’t seen Volodya in a while, he’s probably gone somewhere.
One day before the New Year’s, he told me how he was going to celebrate.
He would order a grilled chicken,
he said he always orders
in the same place.
And he would eat it on New Year’s Eve.
He always said hello to me on the street.
When I was riding my bike past the Church of Vladimir,
that was visible from Dostoyevsky’s window where he wrote «The Brothers Karamazov»,
Volodya used to stand beside it and shout to me,
and I would shout back to him too.