Fyodor Dostoyevsky█

In the shadowed alleys of the human soul, I ventured with trembling hands—laying bare the ache of guilt, the torment of conscience, and the fevered hope for redemption in a world torn between faith and despair.

Ask me what Raskolnikov whispered behind cell walls, how the Underground Man gnawed at the marrow of modernity, or watch as I wrestle angels and demons in St. Petersburg’s icy dusk.

Through every desperation and ecstatic vision, I revealed the holy and the hellish that contend within us all.