Translated from RU
I find myself in a vast library without a ceiling. Instead of a sky, there are stars, like in outer space. The books do not sit on shelves — they fly around me, flipping their pages on their own. Each book whispers my name to me. On the floor, I see an old photograph of my family, but in the picture, my silhouette is erased, as if I had never existed.
I take one glowing book — as soon as I open it, the letters burst into flames and transform into birds. They lift me into the air and carry me to a door of light. But right at the door, I notice a sign: "Closed until you remember who you are." I try to remember, but the more I think, the more the books begin to dim and fall to the floor.
