I remember the tiniest details of the moment when I first learned about what happened in Odessa four years ago. I was in a hurry so I understood nothing. In the evening I started reading. But even then I understood nothing.
I understood nothing on the next day. My newsfeed consisted of Navalnyy and other oppositionist nonsense drooling over the yellow-blue flag. I didn’t know what to read and how to understand it. I didn’t understand the people with beautiful faces who were saving dogs or were posting about people without hands who were drawing but on that day wrote about the “smoked hundred.” My friends, my acquaintances. To be sure, I didn’t realize what was happening, I thought there was some mistake, a misunderstanding. Because one can’t talk like that about living people.
The realization came later, after some time.
But it turned out that was the least of what was said.
It turns out one can justify anything, provided it’s not within your paradigm. Justify any deaths, losses, and tragedies.
After this day of blood, a huge wave of volunteers joined the militia.
People came from all over. I met many guys in LPR and DPR who spoke of May 2.
Four years later, I still haven’t heard a single honest answer from the monsters sitting in the Rada. People in power spoke of an “FSB provocation”, said “it’s their own fault.” Yes, they were formal condolences, but fake ones.
On October 23, 2014 Poroshenko said Odessa paid a big price in order to stop the separatists.
“Price” for him means tens of murdered people.
It’s been four years but it feels like today.
I will not forget.
I will not forgive.