#russian boy

-If you post or reblog political content of ANY kind, please do not interact with this blog!!

-If you are a Proshipper/Darkshipper or reblog anything related to proshipping/darkshipping please do not interact with this blog!!

-this also goes for Thinspo/ED blogs, I don't think this one needs to be explained

16 YEARS OF FUCKING AROUND ON THE RAILS LATER!!

This blog has 18 followers now… Thanks guys. It means the world. to see people interested in my slice of life. And the mystery of the SNA-CHK rail incidents 2006-08, but whatever. Ignore the messy ass room, it’s not like I have neither the energy or will to clean it. Not my stuff anyway.

I guess I never really answered a few questions. Like why I have so much time on my hands to bury my head in railway lines and dead stations.

Maybe it’s because I’ve stood past the yellow line before, staring at the rails, and wondering if the crunch of bone against metal would be like I heard it was. It was too cold and the carbon dioxide I exhaled from my body left white clouds in the air. And the train did come from the tunnel, vibrating the rails from kilometres away… you know the humming of the rails if you’ve payed close attention before. I watched it go right past me, and I stepped back out of instinct. The train stopped, people got off. And I went from pale to red, and left the station.

In Japan, I hear people would take off their shoes.

Well, damn near impossible in this kind of climate. My legs were probably blue under those cargo pants anyway.

Talk about cold feet, haha.

Any Slavic person will be accustomed to events like these, we sadly have the highest rates in the world of addiction, drinking, and… human body accidents. And it’s not like this man was any different, damn it, but the case… it’s like a perfect ridicule of this world. People don’t fight the cold anymore and walk to the stations. It’s because people would leave flowers on the metal seats in the station, but nobody could speak about the exact tragedy, and nobody would leave flowers for any of the lost people. Not on the rails, they went missing in Chernikslovaya. In the end, I miss the place in some way, but maybe it’s better that I left. The more I investigate and grow obsessed the worse the details become.

If you are reading this blog, you know something is wrong too. Something happened in the hospitals and the stations, but there is nothing left. I feel burdened to carry the last of this tragedy, before it is covered by the tarp in finality and left.

The worst part is when they cover it up with the tarp. Sometimes just a coat.

To be content is impossible, really.

Uhh… thanks for 18 followers! I’m open to questions. It’s Natko and his digicam against the world (a.k.a. Zdzisla-Siberian Government).

This piece is inspired by Soft Blade — Yugoslavskiy Groove. Wanted to capture that winter Russian aesthetic. Not sure about the tattoo meanings.. I did some quick research, but real prison culture experts are the ones who truly know :)