This series started suddenly and unplanned. After the mobilization in September in Russia, my idea of the phenomenon of «home» underwent a significant change. Now for me, «home» is not a place of safety, not a specific point on a map, not a native feeling, not a concept of «motherland». Home is a painful process of loss, faith and hope. 'Nuclear space' is a diary of emigration in which three countries are intertwined: Kazakhstan, Georgia and Russia. 

Due to the financial instability, we returned to Russia. The feelings of uncertainty and hopelessness were replaced by anger, injustice, and most of all, fear. Fear came in with every open door, on the way home, when I looked out my window and checked to see if the police were searching my room. The manic thoughts silenced me from talking openly about the war anymore. 

Here at home, freedom of speech is not. All feelings have sunk into the inside of myself. I can't call it humility, I can't call it cowardice and acquiescence. I am facing an invisible hell — invisible only from the outside. Here at home, this notion has shattered its foundation. Home has become a metaphor for protest and a metaphor for prison at the same time. I can't say that I'm putting an end to this diary. Now I don't know when I can be sure exactly what tomorrow will be or where I will end up.