When I had just gotten out of the hospital, I used to do this exercise. The hardest one for me. You have to stand, then lie down on the floor, then get back up again. It was very, very hard. My maximum was three times. After that, I had to rest. ⠀ This morning I did push-ups, squats, and even a few burpees (an infernal thing). After that, I realized the moment I had been waiting for had finally come — I’m probably almost fully recovered and can finally return home. ⠀ The question of whether to return or not was never really a question for me. Simply because I never left. I ended up in Germany, arriving there in an intensive care transport capsule, for one reason only: someone tried to kill me. ⠀ I survived. And now Putin, who gave the order to have me killed, is screeching throughout his bunker and ordering his servants to do everything possible to stop me from coming back. His servants are acting as they usually do: fabricating new criminal cases against me. ⠀ But I’m not very interested in what they’re doing over there. Russia is my country, Moscow is my city, and I miss them. ⠀ So this morning I went to the Pobeda website and bought tickets. ⠀ On Sunday, January 17, I will return home on a Pobeda flight. Come meet me 😉