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As a kid I was living in a communal apartment with my parents, with 5 or 6 other families on the highest floor of an old, XIX century building. There were artists' workshops above us in the garret. Since my parents were dissident-like bogema art people, artists from above were hanging out in our room almost each evening and making unoffical exibitions from time to time. Among them I've remembered Ilja Kabakov kind round man with a warm smile and works I like more then anyone else's. He painted m...more