Lena and Roma

This is what happiness looks like. This is what a happy family looks like.
That’s what Lena’s family was like until 2014…
Lena buried Roma right in the garden, among exploding shells, tears, paralyzing fear, and incomprehension of what was happening.
August 19 was hot for Vergunka, a small, long-suffering village on the outskirts of Lugansk.


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On the Front Line

–What is your name?
–Zhenya.
–Where are you from?
–From Sverdlovsk. Nearly all of us are from there.
Zhenya is so young, tanned, and cute, that one wants to hug him. In a motherly fashion, with no ulterior motives. And it’s so wistful, so sad, when one realizes where he is.
I don’t know what they call the line of contact in other hot spots, but on the Donbass they say “the front”. It’s the very edge. You look over, and 800m away is “their” checkpoint. “Ukie” one, as they say.


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“Everything’s fine”

My news feed has been like this. Please forgive me…
“The pumping station is without electricity again(((
There’s no water…”

“Direct it on city hospital number 2 in Makeyevka.”

“To make long story short, one has to stock up on duct tape. We’ve already spent time face down in the cellar. Without thinking. A reflex, dammit. There was no danger, only noise. So we got up. Went home, it’s cold, the balcony is open wide, and the kids are sleeping. We envied them)”
Under the post, routine comments with smilies, likes:
–Reinforced everything with tape? When we got hit, it was easier to pick up those windows that were reinforced. Those without tape were shattered into a thousand pieces, which cut everything around us (it’s better to have it all taped up and hope it will never be needed)
–Of course))) We did that back when planes were bombing. They are all still taped up, and I don’t know when I’ll peel off the tape)
–You’d kill yourself trying to take it off. And you’ll still have sticky glue on the panes, neither acetone nor gasoline will remove it.”

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