Apartment one hundred and thirty-fifth, seventh floor. Boris is hopelessly glued to the multi-colored Christmas garlands in the windows of the panel building across the street. He is mortally tired of the hustle and bustle of late December and has sinking deeper and deeper into memories of New Year's Eve of 1992. The dining table was set in the living room. The air smelled of boiled potatoes, cigarette smoke, and sparkling wine. Uncle Oleg has pulled out his guitar, while aunt Vika was loudly complaining to his mother about another troublesome boyfriend. he could see his father inexplicably handing money to Santa Claus. A few minutes later, Boris would read a poem to this deeply inebriated man in a scarlet robe with little enthusiasm and receive a small LEGO set with an airplane as a gift. The magic of the holiday had, of course, fallen apart at that moment, but everything felt not so hopeless after all while he holding the box with a bunch of colorful plastic pieces in his small hands. And the only thing that could give him that same feeling right now was a bit of drum-and-bass in a mix Nepogodin for 5/8: radio.
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39:07
Frunk29 - 5/8 Radio #244
Apartment one hundred twenty nine, sixth floor. Zoya was about to leave the house when all of a sudden it hit her: how tired she was of all of this. Squeezing the last bits of toothpaste from a tube folded multiple times. Writing and deleting messages she desperately wanted to send. Walking along Shosseynaya Street on a winter evening, watching the dim light in the windows of the apartment blocks. Listening to the loud cough of her neighbor from apartment 130. Sitting through seemingly endless conference calls (which, of course, could have been emails). Seeing the reflection of her tired face in the windows of a rusty BMW in the neighboring courtyard. Awkwardly trying to get the bartender's attention on Friday evening, in the timid hope of ordering another unnecessary glass of beer. And constantly choosing something – what to wear, what to watch, which cheese to buy on sale… but then a frunk29 mix for 5/8: radio started playing in her headphones. The stream of nagging thoughts in Zoya's head stopped, and she felt calmer and happier, so calm and happy that she even wanted to live
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57:13
«Central Clinical Hospital 27.10.2010»
Central Clinical Hospital
For a brief period around 2010, small flash mp3 players replaced cassettes as the preferred medium for mixtapes, and were often included in care packages sent to hospital patients. This iriver s7 mp3 player was found at the third entranceway of the Central Clinical Hospital on November 27.
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59:39
Undervann - 5/8 Radio #243
Eighty-nine apartment, fifth floor. On his way home, somewhere between the 24-hour store called "The Elk" and the "Milana" hair salon, Ignat spotted a playing card with the queen of clubs lying alone on the pavement. Now he can only think about that loose black shirt with a bold deck-of-cards pattern that his mother’s friend, Uncle Slava, used to wear. All Ignat remembers about him: the gleaming gold tooth, the habit of rubbing his neck with his palm, a trip together to the lake in a beige Lada, when he felt an extra more than ever). And also, the fact that one crisp January morning in 1997, Uncle Slava was met by three gunshots as he was leaving the apartment building. But most of all, Ignat remembers that card-patterned shirt. It’s forever etched in his memory, just like the first time he heard Undervann's mix for 5/8: radio — a lone tear of happiness slid down his cheek, and his feet couldn’t help but start to dance
Brasil