Aleksandr Perchatkin
Read the Faculty Introduction.
Throughout my life I have been acting as a camera: when I feel strong emotions, I “snap” a picture and put it in my storage. The storage is full of stories of different kinds, and the most important one is journalism. I care about these journalistic snapshots because the stories are not mine. They belong to someone else, and my job is to transmit them in a fast and efficient way. The snapshots are grouped in envelopes by different categories: date, theme, titles, and stories themselves. Now, I am opening the envelope titled “Vending machines and their future usage worldwide,” where three images are collected.
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Snapshot No. 1: “Sorry”
9 September 2019
Dasha is sitting on a bench near “Aleksandrovskiy Sad,” a popular garden among tourists, trying to hide from the scorching heat of Moscow September. The garden is always crowded with tourists–it is almost impossible to find solace among the Soviet-style weird flowers and trees that were planted there long before Dasha was born. She cries and is surrounded by unfamiliar faces, who mingle with the natural scenery with their noises of astonishment and complaints. Dasha sits there, crossing her legs and arms like a tired student after classes, but her face is different. It bears an expression of emptiness and transparency. The spot that she is looking at is missing, either obscured by the crowd or the chaotic tourists, making it hard for her to focus on anything other than the touristic nonsense around her.
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