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She had performed alone in the past, lunging at Patriarch Kirill, but on the morning of this protest, her heart was racing She placed an iron stave in a tote bag, covering it with a scarf She had on a grey hooded sweatshirt and a jacket which she planned to pull open, but otherwise wore no costume Yana Zhdanova finds the trappings of Femen protests – flower crowns, impasto make-up – unnecessary when their message is already clear Half an hour before Yana was due to leave, Oxana Shachko called to say she wouldn’t be able to come Alone, in a rush, Yana used a mirror to write Kill Putin on her chest, not realising she had it the wrong way around, a mirror image She ran to the bathroom and vomited   On the Métro, she observed the people around her To them, she thought, I look calm Calm duly settled over her As she walked through the Musée Grevin on 5 June, 2014, Yana felt a sense of inevitability She arrived earlier than she had planned and wandered through a children’s exhibition, failing to meditate Finally, she made her way to the waxwork of Vladimir Putin It referred to a version of the Russian president with a shock of blond hair and a thinner face; the focus of its blue eyes was unusually soft Putin stood amongst an improbable congress of world leaders The walls, carpet, and curtains flanking them were red and plush, like the inside of a jewellery box Yana was still ten minutes early, but the photojournalists she’d called were in position   She opened her jacket, drew the stave, screamed in English ‘Fuck dictator’, and stabbed the waxwork in the chest She had assumed the base was firmly connected to the floor, but the statue toppled to the ground, the head collapsing into fragments strewn on the carpet like a cracked egg She had expected the museum guards to stop her, but now realised that they weren’t going to, not until she was through They found her frightening, they would tell her afterwards Improvising, she straddled the statue, balancing