The Secret of Movement

About the author.

Lipinskyi Vladimir Alexandrovich was born on June 4, 1988, in Odessa, Ukraine. He was born into a very poor, small family. Mother – Elena Bloschak, Father – Alexander Bloshchak, and older sister – Irina Bloschak. He finished secondary school No. 11, and went to study at school No. 54, with specialization in “chef”. After graduation, a year later, he entered and graduated from Moscow State University, with specialization in “International Economic Relations”. He created his first business in 2011 called PlayStation Club.

Knowing all his relatives and their unsuccessful lives, Vladimir Bloshchak was ashamed that he bore the surname of a family in which no one was distinguished by anything and achieved nothing grandiose. Vladimir lost his father in 2007; he lost his mother in 2012.

In 2012, Vladimir met his future wife Christina Lipinskaya, and after marrying her in 2013, he took her surname. In 2021, he earned his first million dollars for the first time.

The secret of movement

Sitting in Dubai, in a great apartment overlooking the sea, it’s hard to believe that once upon a time I was running down the street, at a temperature of +30 degrees in wool pants with a sewn-in fly. Because there was no zipper on the pants. Though to tell the truth, that’s complete nonsense, as I always knew that the shit I was living in was definitely not for me.

I always believed that I was destined for something more than cutting through the streets of the sloboda. I didn’t know how, of course, but I knew that I had to do anything to get out of that God forsaken place. So that you understand what I mean by the word shit – this is when you live in a family of four in a house with an area of 55 sq m., of which 20 are in disrepair. In a house where there is no water and legal light. There was so little space that the sofa on which I slept barely fit into the room, and the impression was, looking at it, that it was placed before those clay walls were erected. Yeah, you got that right, the house was made of fucking clay. There were three rooms and a kitchen in that 55-square-foot space. The biggest room was uninhabitable because the ceiling was so sagging that it could fall off at any moment and kill someone. As you understand, a shower or a bathtub was out of the question. We had to take turns washing in a basin in the far room, as all the rooms were walk-through. We often did not wash, as I had to carry the water from the neighbors, who lived not very close. Don’t think that I am trying to complain a little and pull at heartstrings. I want it to be clear what and how things were. I can’t say I had bad parents. I loved them very much, although I cried in childhood like a tearful girl. Every day, for any reason.