Many friends call each other brothers and sisters. But not all brothers and sisters are friends. I have an older brother. 14 years older. I know that he dreamed of a brother, but he seemed to meet me with joy. And he even came up with a name for me. While working on the project, I looked through the family archive. And I felt sad. In our entire life, we have almost no joint photographs. As if we were only in childhood, and then we were gone. I remember him when he was eighteen, wearing a black hoodie with skulls. There are metal rings on his hands, «Rammstein» is playing from a tape recorder to the whole house. He tied tights on my legs. I cannot go, I cannot untie them. I cry and call for help. His retribution, in the face of his mother, flies out of the kitchen. She runs after him around the apartment with a towel in her hands. He deftly dodges blows like a ninja and jokes. And now she is no longer angry but laughs. I laugh too. I don't care about tights anymore. I want to be like him. Now my brother is 40 years old, I am 26. I look in the mirror and see him. Sometimes I even say it in words. We have been living in different cities for many years. We rarely see each other and communicate. Our views are often opposite. For example, my brother always said that photography is not art at all. Then I was angry (maybe now you will speak differently when you became my co-author, haha). But we forgive each other and remain friends. Why? Life is beautiful and amazing, mom always says. Life is short and unpredictable, I always think. I wanted to tie us back. While we are both still there. Take not only general photos but also general work. To keep it all in mind. And tell my brother how grateful I am for everything. To say that I love him, although it is not customary for us to talk about it.

From project Please stay, I need to say