Nothing but good news

The last two days were perfectly crazy, as we, dressed up as Grandfather Frost and Snow Maiden visited practically all of Lugansk.
By the evening we were barely standing and it seems I dreamed we visited more kids and made them read poetry.
Cars were honking at us, people were waving and nearly all the adults were excitedly conveying us New Year’s greetings.
We visited many apartments, but this post will cover only those which you already know.
The people we help, those whom you periodically see on the pages of this blog.
Here we are visiting the family of Vitaliy, a militiaman from Rubezhnoye. Vitaliy spent over a year in captivity in Ukraine. Now he, his wife, and son live in a dorm in Lugansk.

 

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Help on-line

I once wrote that our effort now resembles that of a philanthropic foundation–we have to do so much.
But most importantly, in addition to the visits, we try to continue providing aid to needy families to the extent of our abilities. In other words, providing aid is now a continuous process.
All of that faraway work is performed by our Lugansk Zhenya and Lena.
At some point, once he agrees, I will write about them. I will write a great deal. Both have become close friends.

Our Seryozha Kutsenko. He now lives in a retirement home for the veterans of Great Patriotic War.
The guys regularly bring him tasty things in our absence, but the main thing are the visits themselves, since he is lonely and bored there.

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Needed: A Corset

This is Zhakhangyul. A young single mom of two kids, one of whom is disabled. By and large, most of those who could leave Lugansk have done so. Those who remain are those who can’t. It’s not important why. As a rule, they are the most vulnerable demographics.
Zhakhangyul speaks Russian very poorly, and in general has a very weak understanding of what’s happening in politics.
Her husband left a long time ago, and doesn’t contact wife or children. But she did not abandon her son.
She’s applying for benefits.
She can’t take up a job because that would mean leaving the house which she can’t do–Otabek, her 12-year-old son, immediately begins to cry and scream.

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