About the book: year / Is there a meaning in life for a creature that counts its years in millennia? Most likely not, because time washes away desires and feelings. How to live with the echoes of those emotions that once brought joy and peace? No way, you can only exist, occasionally pulling a mask with a certain emotion onto your face. It is unknown why, but Mother Universe decided to dispel this fucking boredom, which has been dragging on for several centuries. She gave me another chance. But just to whom... the person or the world into which he was brought?