"This is not your head!" ("Eto ne tvoia golova!") the author tells the reader who is about to enter a labyrinth of thoughts, images, and reflections. Here time does not flow from point A to point B. It circles: now pooling behind dams, now rushing ahead in a swift current, now bending in a strange curve that invites you to glimpse the distant past, and sometimes breaking off altogether, leaving you baffled and forcing you to fill the gaps with guesses of your own.

The new book by Ilya Dik, poet and media artist, is made from the shards of a mirror: from lush fantasies about the Soviet past to the adventures of medieval coats of arms on Instagram, from heartache to the story of how Stalinosis infected the crystals in the displays of every device. And anyone who, following the narrator's example, begins to piece the shards together will be able to recognize themselves in this mirror.