The limitless life in the big city, the claim to freedom and the preciousness of one's own life plan - namely being able to live exactly as one wishes - find little place in "real" life at the end of the day. The question arises: does "free will" even exist? Is it even possible to "live according to your own ideas"? Or is it ultimately just something for the "happy few" in a world that has long since been calculated and sold? Dostoyevsky's protagonist relives his life in a reckoning and rapprochement in equal measure, preaching and raging hopelessly, always in search of real life within the abysses of society.