Ilya Shakursky, September 2023
We fly.
Lanterns’ light, car, road, station.
We soar like birds.
Shoulder, music, cola, coolness.
We fly.
Motion, speed, gleam of headlights and forests.
We rocket ahead.
Stars, stops, billboards, fields.
We fly.
Wind, aux, trace of a broken white arrow.
We fly into infinity.
Sleeping trucks, diners, bridges.
We fly.
Asphalt hum, drizzling raindrops.
We fly above it all.
To stay here forever would be our call.
Federal Correctional Institution No. 17 of the Federal Penitentiary Service of Russia in the Republic of Mordovia.