It is not easy to establish life under shelling. You listen to every sound and divide them into joyful and scary ones.
Earlier, for example, I got very angry with the neighbours in an apartment above mine who started dancing and singing after 11 pm. Now I enjoy every step they make. They stamp like medium-sized ponies.
But I’m not angry, on the contrary, I’m happy. Now I feel like they are my family. They have not evacuated from beloved Mariupol, they are here with me, it is not easy for them, but they are strong and sincere. And let them stamp as much as they want. Let them rearrange the furniture 24/7. I only want them to be fine.
And the sound of dear voices on the phone! It’s so important to ask, “How are you?” One of my friends always answers, “Like the whole city.” Another one assures “We won’t shit our pants”, and informs that she is now waiting out the shelling in the corridor. I feel calmer because I’m also in there, and we’re kind of together.
I try to walk my dog before curfew and between shellings. However, I never manage to take a walk in a lull. While we’re going down from our sixth floor, in a house without an elevator, it starts to boom, it’s scary. I almost forgot. I always crisscross myself before going out. Because I’m a little scared.
Angie and I run to our favourite clearing to the vile sounds. You can’t confuse them with anything. It makes the impression that they are hitting an iron roof with a huge hammer, or, if Grads (a soviet multiple rocket launcher) are flying, the feeling that a huge killer train is approaching, from which the earth is shaking, and the blood is freezing in the veins.
Angie and I know what’s going on. My beloved city is being killed by the damned Russian invaders. We hate them, and we wish them dead. I do not know how to explain to the dog why the f**k they came to us. And why our Ukrainian people are being killed.
Angie guesses that the sounds we hear on the walk are the sounds of death. Therefore, she does her stuff quickly. My job is then to collect the poop and throw it in the trash. War is no reason to pollute my city. It is already being soiled with shells by vile scum from a neighbouring country.
I also love the sounds of rain and the sounds of hope. This is when someone brings good news.
“Our army destroyed a whole column of tanks, you know? They shot down a plane that bombed Sartana four times.” And there are also sounds of confidence that we will win. When in every city the people shout at the murderers that they are bastards and that the cities they came to are Ukraine. No one invited them here. They are superfluous here. And then they stop tanks with their bare hands and do not let a column of armoured vehicles into their village.
Yes, it’s hard and scary for us, but it’s even harder for the orcs. They are covered with such hatred, such curses which can kill without weapons and shells.
Why did you make us angry, you half-finished kamikazes?
And here is a photo of Angie and Yoshik waiting out the shelling in the corridor.
March 2 at 00:35
Russian Text by Nadezhda Sukhorukova, translated into English by Ukrainianvancouver team – Mar 25, 2022
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