5/8 : radio 5/8 : Radio

Apartment 66, eighth floor. Tanya looks at the beautiful lipstick imprint on the wine glass. The last guests have just left: she can still hear the elevator rumbling down, carrying Ildar and Sasha. Someone left the turquoise lighter on the kitchen table next to a cup of cold coffee. It became completely quiet and therefore a little melancholic. Perhaps she should have slowed down a bit. Then she wouldn't have felt the urge to tell that childhood story about summer camp in front of everyone (yes, the guests laughed, but it seemed more out of pity) or to plan a joint trip for the upcoming weekend (it's already clear – no one is going anywhere). And she definitely wouldn't have wanted to write that message to that person while stepping out to smoke on the balcony (of course, he read it and didn't reply). Tanya stretches her legs and closes her eyes. The interior of her tiny kitchen with a glowing garland, silly magnets on the fridge, and a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, smoothly transitions into spinning abstract paintings. Ahead lies an uneasy ten-hour sleep and a heavy morning, which can only be improved by a painkiller pill and a mix from 5/8: radio by our buddy Dima Krylov from Samara

Apartment 91, fifth floor. Ilya slowly stirs cheap coffee in an old mug with the picture of the Egyptian pyramids (his younger sister brought it from vacation in Hurghada about ten years ago). Just one more day to endure. Then he'll head to the train station in the evening and hop on the suburban train. It will be hot and stuffy in the carriage, his shirt will instantly stick to his body. Outside the window there will be graffiti-adorned concrete fences, garage cooperatives, auto repair shops, old houses, vacant lots, new houses, more concrete fences, other people's dachas, and finally, dense forest. He'll get off at a station with a funny name and walk along a sandy road between fields overgrown with tall grass. In the country house inherited from his grandfather, it will smell familiarly of an old books. Ilya will brew strong coffee in his favorite red polka-dot mug (for some reason it will taste better than at home) and, sitting on the porch, will listen as unfamiliar nocturnal birds sing beyond the fence in the twilight-darkened pine forest. The itching need to transplant the distant raspberry bush growing by the tilted barn will swiftly push out all other thoughts and desires. He will finally take a deep breath—feeling oddly pleasant and serene, as if he had turned on Perez's mix for 5/8: radio.

@accidentalpoint
@sheva_music

It's a sunny day, late March. You're smiling. Maybe it's because it's Saturday, you don't have to think about work, and there's an empty glass of lager on the counter in front of you. Or in your memory suddenly arose a picture from your childhood: you are driving your father's old car out of town for the first kebabs, in the trunk rattles disassembled brazier, and you anticipate how you will pedal along the paths of the dacha cooperative on an old "Desna". What? Do you really remember how beautiful looked in the sunset sunlight slightly disheveled hair of that very man (you are still shy and do not admit anything), while you went out for a smoke for five minutes? Or maybe there's a 5/8 broadcast playing in your headphones right now: radio from the Accidental Point space? Yeah, probably the latter.

@accidentalpoint

It's a sunny day, late March. You're smiling. Maybe it's because it's Saturday, you don't have to think about work, and there's an empty glass of lager on the counter in front of you. Or in your memory suddenly arose a picture from your childhood: you are driving your father's old car out of town for the first kebabs, in the trunk rattles disassembled brazier, and you anticipate how you will pedal along the paths of the dacha cooperative on an old "Desna". What? Do you really remember how beautiful looked in the sunset sunlight slightly disheveled hair of that very man (you are still shy and do not admit anything), while you went out for a smoke for five minutes? Or maybe there's a 5/8 broadcast playing in your headphones right now: radio from the Accidental Point space? Yeah, probably the latter.

@accidentalpoint
@uladzimirkolb

It's a sunny day, late March. You're smiling. Maybe it's because it's Saturday, you don't have to think about work, and there's an empty glass of lager on the counter in front of you. Or in your memory suddenly arose a picture from your childhood: you are driving your father's old car out of town for the first kebabs, in the trunk rattles disassembled brazier, and you anticipate how you will pedal along the paths of the dacha cooperative on an old "Desna". What? Do you really remember how beautiful looked in the sunset sunlight slightly disheveled hair of that very man (you are still shy and do not admit anything), while you went out for a smoke for five minutes? Or maybe there's a 5/8 broadcast playing in your headphones right now: radio from the Accidental Point space? Yeah, probably the latter.

Apartment 35, ninth floor. Yana closed the iron front door with a clatter («Nina Valentinovna from 36th apartment will come to argue again soon») She carelessly put the heavy grocery bag on the tiled floor and the jar of pickles at the bottom of it clanged loudly («I hope it hadn’t crash!»). She couldn't get out of her head that Luzin was standing in line in front of her. The same senior high school student, Luzin, whom she secretly had a crush on in school. Now there was almost nothing left of that curly handsome football player she remembered: he had ballooned up like a ball and lost almost all of his curls. And those awful patent leather shoes... She wonders, if she and Luzin were a couple now («There was zero chances, but still»), would she notice all this? Or would he still remain in her eyes the same wide-smiling guy in silly tracksuits, just scoring a goal in the dusty backyard football box on Krasnaya Street. It was getting dark outside, the highway was humming as usual, the windows of the house opposite lit up with violet light from the phyto-lamps, and if there was anything that could save Yana from the spiraling thoughts of her unrealized life right now, it would only be Vanya's mix for 5/8: radio.