This painting continues my reflection on the Russian spirit — raw, restless, and forged in silence. The figure, a man with an axe, is not a narrative character but a distilled presence — a symbol of something older than history: endurance without spectacle, power without noise. He stands not as a threat, but as a witness — to the land, to the weight of inheritance, to the simmering dignity of those who carry too much and speak too little. There is no theatrical violence in him, only potential — of creation or destruction, never clearly divided. In his posture lives the echo of centuries: rebellion, fatigue, belief. He is not idealized — he simply is, holding the line between myth and man. This work asks: what remains of primal strength in a world trained to doubt it? It’s a portrait not of a person, but of a force — unresolved, rooted, and deeply human.