I am glad to greet you!
    My name is Isaar (yes, to be frank, it's a pseudonym). I was born in the Soviet Union ( there was such a country from 1917 till 1991 spread from the Baltic Sea to the Kuril Isles, from the Arctic Ocean till the South of Turkmenistan) in the Central Asia, in December of 1973. This was a little modern town. My parents were builders. Like all the children I went to school. Following eight years of study at school I tried to enter the State Art College twice. A second effort was lucky. (1989-1993) I got a speciality of an artist-designer. I always admired the masters of painting, both ancient and modern ones, especially, by portrait-painters, who are able to transmit the intensity and vividness of percerption. During my study at college, there appeared understanding of another kind of painting. Having graduated from the college, I found that there is no the country which existed when I entered it. If earlier we knew it exactly how to live, now it was necessary to think it over how to survive. A gigantic country was divided into multiple smaller ones. There started to ruin economic interrelation between the large industrial enterprises, mass dismissal of working places started, some enterprises ceased their existance. We, the artist-designers, who just recently were of great demand in the country, became unnecessary, as there disappeared any visual large-scale agitation. Most of us started to earn their living by repairing premises, including me. Another started trading, others were drowned by criminal world. It was the peculiarity of the time. At present I live in a large city. I worked a sale manager of CCTV – techniques for video observation, later I worked a marketing manager. In the beginning of 1994 my Mother died, the most native relative of mine. After my Mother’s death three of my brothers died, too. Two of them had a cancer, a third one was given a conclusion of "a sharp coronary insufficiency". And my most favorite brother was missing in 1983, when I was about ten. It may be because of this I sometimes become sad. I have no goal to squeeze any tears of compassion out of you, as there are millions persons similar to me. There are people who experienced much more that I did. I'd like it very much the people to be more attentive to each other, for them to value and protect their families, friends, while they are close and near.

    Certainly, one must be happy for each minute of one's life. Though not every minute may bring gay. I may narrate one funny event. Moreover, there is not alive neither a person who created this funny situation, nor a person who was joked, despite of a large difference in their age. Unfortunately, such things take place in out life.

    During my study at the college I knew one member of The Association of Artists of USSR, who went in for drinking, he was a Muscovite, his name was Feliks Arkadyevich. He occurred to be in our places during the periods of great constructions – in 70-s, and stayed here forever. Once I met him at one local market, he was not alone, being tipsy and I was accompanied by two fellows of mine who studied with me. One of my friends was short having tender features. That member of the Association of Artists was of a pensioner age, his age and the alcohol taken before spoiled his sight a little. While shaking my hand greeting me, he was staring at me for a long time with narrowed eyes and saw a pimpled guy's face. This induced him to take some measures. He asked me to step aside not far from my fellows and gave an advice communicate with girls in more close contacts, for example, with that one and he showed by his eyes to my short course-mate. The fellow with a tender face was offended. Later we used to joke at our friend. Nevertheless, it was he who was older that all of us in our course. And by that time he had experience in drinking, smoking of drugs, and, unlike us, he had rich experience in communicating with girls.

    Hoping to your comprehension, Isaar!