Eleven stories told by Yan Ardatovskiy. Some of them happened.
Move the lamp along the name.←→Enter
Yan Ardatovskiy
Move the lamp along the name.←→Enter
Updated September 2026
This is a private, non-commercial site with eleven short stories. Nothing is for sale here, including your data.
I collect what you choose to send me through the contact form, a little technical data that comes with it, and, only if you say yes, anonymous-ish statistics from Google Analytics. No advertising, no profiling, no automated decisions about you.
This site is run by Yan Ardatovskiy in a personal capacity. It is not a business. The way to reach me is the contact form.
Hosted by Cloudflare, Inc., 101 Townsend Street, San Francisco, CA 94107, USA.
Your name, your email, your message, and the answers to the two optional questions, if you give them.
Along with it, the usual technical data your browser sends anyway: IP address, approximate location, device, browser and language, the page that brought you here, and how far you got with the lamp. It helps me answer sensibly and keeps the bots out.
The site uses your browser's local storage, not cookies, to remember a few strictly functional things: your language, day or night mode, your lamp progress, and your cookie choice.
This information stays on your device and is not sent to me. You can clear it at any time in your browser settings. Because it is strictly necessary for the site to work the way you asked, it does not require consent.
The banner puts it simply: if you disagree, turn off the light and go your own way. Here is what that means in practice.
Google Analytics 4 runs only if you accept. Until then, and if you refuse, it is held back through Google's Consent Mode and sets no analytics cookies. Ignoring the banner counts as no.
Refusing is exactly as easy as accepting: one click either way. You can change your mind at any time with the Cookies link at the bottom of the page.
Cloudflare Web Analytics also counts visits. It uses no cookies, does not track you across sites, and only gives me aggregate figures.
Replying to your message and protecting the form against spam and abuse: my legitimate interest in running a personal site that people can write to, and steps you asked me to take by writing.
Analytics through Google Analytics: your consent, which you can withdraw at any time.
I do not sell your data, share it for advertising, or use it to make automated decisions about you.
Messages and the technical data that came with them: up to 24 months, then deleted. Sooner if you ask.
Google Analytics data: 14 months, the retention period set in Google Analytics.
Local storage: until you clear it in your browser.
Your message is a letter to me. I read it myself, and I may show it to people I trust, the way you would show a good letter to a friend. I do not publish it, sell it, or use it for advertising.
On the technical side: Cloudflare hosts the site and delivers the form, Google runs analytics if you said yes, and my email provider keeps the inbox. Some of them are in the United States; transfers rely on the EU-US Data Privacy Framework.
Want to see what you sent me, or want it gone? Write through the form from the same email address and it will be done.
You can also withdraw consent to analytics at any time with the Cookies link at the bottom of the page. And you have the right to complain to a data protection authority, though I would rather you wrote to me first.
Some of them happened. Names and details have been changed, and parts are invented.
Nothing here is advice of any kind, and nothing is a statement of fact about any real company or person. Where something is invented, any resemblance to real people, companies or events is a coincidence.
All texts and photos are © Yan Ardatovskiy, all rights reserved. Copying or republishing them requires my permission. Short quotations are welcome, with a link to ardatovskiy.com.
The site is provided as it is. If it is down for an evening, the stories will wait.
If this page changes, the date at the top will change with it. Anything important will be clearly signposted, not hidden in a lamp.