"...I spent my childhood by the fence of a clothing factory near Moscow. The reinforced-concrete perimeter rose right outside the town's courtyards and stretched off along the river where the factory's waste gushed.
I have almost no childhood pictures. That must be the reason for my nostalgia when watching urchins in the suburbs".
"...Some of my subject seem sad if not downright depressing to viewers. But they make me calmer — when I can render this sadness in a text or picture, I feel that I have less of it inside".
"...At first it was difficult for me as a city boy. We had no restroom in the house, and in the winter one had to run over snow to a wooden john. Without central heating I had to use a stove, feeding it wood, and singed all my fingers on cast-iron lids. The bathhouse left me feeling dirtier than before, and so on.
Thinking back on that time, I believe it was the most intense and exciting period of my sobered existence".
"...The news was not joyful, but, to be honest, not surprising either. I think I had stopped caring for my life a long time earlier, maybe even before I started shooting with other people's syringes. Later I would know some people who were dying, morally, decomposing from the moment of the diagnosis, long before the physical end. I could never understand them. After all, even without therapy there is a good chance to kick the bucket before immunity takes a fatal plunge".