coming soon…
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A piece of my soul and heart stayed in Mariupol. And it hurts like a wound because Mariupol is the city of my dreams. And I can't believe that this nightmare happened to it.
What struck most painfully was the feeling of being a refugee. You had a home, a hometown, and a life with achievements and accomplishments. And now you are a nobody. You run around social services asking for help because you have nowhere to live. I mean, we ride with our newborn son, and we know there's a chance we'll be spending the night in a field.
And now I'm writing a new song, already being put together. It's about Joseph, you know, that person from the Bible. If you read his story without knowing the end, it seems like that's the end of Joseph. Every stage — there are four or five chapters — you think, "That's a total shithole." But when you know what the ending is, you're like, "Oh, that's interesting!"
Always, especially when the siren goes off, I imagine a missile hitting my apartment: I see the furniture flying apart and how I get killed. I relive these moments constantly - I accept the fact that I'm going to die, and I feel better.
Now I feel that the victory is ours, but I didn't feel that back in Donetsk. We finally found a home in the Kyiv region and we definitely don't want to start life all over again this time. This is my land, why the fuck should I go?
It took us a while to adapt to life. The emotional state was a strange one. Work had kept us distracted from all the stress of the war, and we felt a lot of fatigue. And when we arrived and were able to exhale a bit, the stress came back like a spring. Everything that we experienced during the three weeks of volunteering came crashing down, and we could not do anything. Going to a store became incredibly difficult, and speaking to people — even more so.
I was 10 when the war started. In the spring of 2014, strange people started appearing in my hometown and in the region. They started promoting the idea of independence from Kyiv. They said that there had been a military coup there and that we would face the same danger of being killed for speaking Russian.
In those days, Anya's mother would often say with tears in her eyes, "Thank you so much for bringing my daughter." Those were emotions that we will probably never experience again.
Dad got an injury while in Manhush, and he wasn't in the best condition. I think it happened when he was walking with a grocery bag: a missile hit somewhere behind him, he fell down, and when he got up, there was only the handle left of the bag.