It's hard to put together a fewer 100 days, weeks and months and compose under this "well it was like this and so it was not." So I'm going to start with ergo, even though I only had a two-month study and a period for the events of last year and thanks.
But it will be time.
It's February. I've already been on the warpath for the second year, although no 1 has declared war on me, nor have I declared war on me. Questions about the meaning and intent of aid are more and more common - I throw them distant with a smile, sometimes I act like a stone, sometimes I cook. I don't want to say for the hundredth time what's apparent to me. The convinced know their own and I will not convince the unconvinced - for they know better and it is for them that this kingdom awaits in heaven and so on.
I only rotation erstwhile I hear it's not our war. IT IS and even if we close our eyes and close our heads and shut our heads at all, she will not decision behind Ural, to Tibet, or to Never Land. On the contrary, he's getting closer. It's worth seeing 1 day not to stay up your ass.
Just like I wrote before. alternatively of admission, ergo.
It's a road first. That's tens, hundreds and thousands of kilometers, I don't really know how to number them all. Humań, Kherson, Kharkiv, Kalinówka and Żytomierz. Kiev and Chernihov, Dniepr and Zaporozhye, Bar and Kropywnicki or - as anyone prefers - the castle of Kirov, Kirovograd.
Big cities and tiny, mean villages, whose names I've already stopped recording - I think my head is besides tiny or the disk is almost full.
And in towns, cities, villages and colonies located almost on the Moon, Sasha, Masha, Kostek and Vitalika, Tania and Uljana, sometimes Vladek and Marysia, then Tania, the another Tania and Svetlana, and Marianna. And more. Plus their mom, dad, uncle, grandfather, partner.... Sorry, there's no brother, dad, husband or partner - he's usually in the trench, sometimes he'll say he's inactive alive, worse erstwhile he doesn't give a sign of life for 2 or 3 weeks, then thoughts start to be truly black, day and night taste like earth.
Meanwhile, life is here, in this filthy village - sometimes a cattle roars, sometimes a motorbike, sometimes a bomb falls; then usually nothing roars. Tania and Natalia don't fight but that doesn't mean that they didn't get hit - 1 has no leg, the another has no hand and the 1 from the cabin, there under the forest, Saint, there's nothing due to the fact that half of it was ripped off by Russian rockets, the another half was rotten and fell off.
Life. Saint is inactive alive - like a vegetable, you gotta change it and feed it to the baby - it smells like a immense poop - but it lives, possibly it is simply a comfort. individual shruged their arms. In the second year of the war, nothing impresses us anymore.
Really? He's not doing anything?
Well, he does. erstwhile you cut miles of black road at night, erstwhile you're alone with asphalt or not asphalt and thoughts that just like asphalt go to the horizon, everything around you is just black and you think it's gonna stay that way. Meanwhile, the map on the telephone abruptly turns red - is it a shame, the telephone is embarrassed showing something that shouldn't be shown? Well, no, it's just an alarm and an alarm.
I turned off the signal, turned off that stupid bean due to the fact that he raised me on my feet a fewer times an hour. I turned off the sound, but there was a painting. It is indeed a measurement of shame, but it is not the telephone that should be ashamed. erstwhile it turns red, there's a bomb coming, a tfu rocket. So he flies and falls or doesn't fall. If not - it means that possibly Gien, to whom I was carrying soup, underpants and first-aid kit did not sleep, aimed and fucked as God commanded, on pohybel to kacap and the fame of Ukraine. possibly it's not Gena or Constanty or Vasyl, but does it matter? It's crucial he hit.
And if it fails, in 1 village again the cattle or passing motor will halt roaring, and again I will be on the list of shame any Tania, Mania or Vanya without limbs or limbs: ecce homo! - present the vegetable will stay forever. But feed and watch. It's going to mean more food, more diapers, possibly a wheelchair, possibly a bed, possibly just a small board to make a good coffin. I mean, who wants to hang out in the ugly one?
Or that's erstwhile you abruptly get in the truck, and the road doesn't want to let you go. And that's a large decision on the waist, and that's a hill, and that's fucking tight, and that's no way to get out of a trap that rolls in front of you and behind you. And so you drive away, sometimes very long, stiff as a mannequin - due to the fact that half the poorness if you drive between a truck with food and a pebble with wood.
Worse if you abruptly find yourself in transport 200, right in the mediate of it. You know what 200 is? It is the most common transport and cargo in Ukraine now - in the rubble 200 bodies go. Dead. The boys from the front go to their towns and villages, to their mommy, to their daddy, to Tatiana and to Stefa. Or friends. Sometimes they go in a bag, sometimes in 5 bags, sometimes in 20 - I am talking about solos or individual bodies. In 1 bag 1 leg, in the other, the remainder in the 3rd or in twenty.
So you follow that dirty truck, you got another 1 in the back. Then another one, and who knows what's in the front. Even in June, on 200s I saw mainly buses and tragic people (this is simply a subject for a separate text but not for everyone), now more frequently you can see the truck - refrigerated. 10 kilometers and 30 and 50 - and so you wander and with you these eternal "where am I going" and "who am I?" In specified company, it's obvious. And you can't outrun a caravan, no 1 in their right head does that.
Parking, rest. Coffee. She is frequently free - even on these big, nicely lit stations. individual will see the inscription, individual will read that a humanitarian, individual will think that from the east the car is going consecutive west (or vice versa and that even more works on emotions). individual embraces, breaks or sighs, sometimes cries.
Here there is no political or geostrategic ceiling, there are no potato wars or a sack of millet and underpants for clickbytes in the haired and gelled media. It's a real life that's frequently tired, sometimes ruined, always despairing. Coffee is besides frequently free, sometimes even borscht, dumplings and more.
Then the road. Faces. Crosses due to the fact that here more and more frequently the face turns into a cemetery cross and a flag; under this flag there is frequently a teenage girl and she understands nothing. I mean, how do you realize that somewhere down there, underneath that proverbial metre of sand, there's something that was a Vitalic. Or Anton, and now, in unequal proportions it changes into eternal (and eternal) jelly. No, it's not an idea, so a girl tears and doesn't understand.
The phone's embarrassed again, and it's like, "Oh, my God." It's flying west, so there's no way to shoot at troops in positions, martial arts or military tactics - it's just a war crime. It's like the Nazis or the Pol Pot hatchers. Like the Russians did for Stalin and the Master's successors. Same as the Tutsi or Hutu slaughter. And sometimes worse.
Lions, Mariupol, Kalinówka, Dniepr, Chernihów, Cherson ... Grocery store. A block. School. Gas station.
Zaporoce. Kharkiv. And another store, a neighborhood, a block, a gallery. Theater, pizza place. The old tenement. Church. Church.
A teenager under a wooden cross inactive cries. It won't halt soon.
The subject is not exhausted but I am - so that's it for today. And there's a lot more of those stories. It's a communicative of surviving under fire in the mud and 10 degrees of frost. It's a communicative about whether you should have a first aid kit according to NATO standard, or if it's incomplete enough, but I make these first aid kits, and I think that this "some", even incomplete one, is much better than the 1 that doesn't exist.
Art experts and the owners of demoshops say that there must be at least 4 stasis in the pharmacy - due to the fact that man has so many endings and this is what describes the celebrated NATO standard. possibly so - but the probability that you're going to lose all 4 at erstwhile is much little than that you're going to lose one.
And even if you lose four, what are you going to do with those 4 stasis, not teeth or willpower? So I'm pushing these bags of medicine, even if they're flaunting these Nattish nonsense, they've gone for nearly 2 1000 last year. If they saved the life of just 1 boy or girl - it means that it is just worth it and had to be prepared. And that I'd inactive be preparing them.
This is simply a communicative about a settlement that was struck by lightning - but not by lightning and a rocket. There were 3 cages in the block, and then boom - and there's only one. erstwhile we got there, those who were fortunate to last laughed nervously, acting like crazy. And behind the block, there was inactive a shredded corpse.
It was six months ago, but we're inactive going there, and Natalia's inactive in the bandages after she was crushed by the ceiling, and the heated metallic rods sticking out of the reinforced concrete have entered her back. Since then, specified blocks and laughing nervously people (and corpses counted somewhere in a discreet place and completed in desperation) have seen more. More than we always wanted to see.
It's a communicative about boys and girls who don't have anything - even simple warm pants, soups or pads - and they've stood in hand 2 years ago... and they're inactive standing.
So this is besides a communicative about pads, warm pants, soups and canned goods and a million another things. About shovels, boards, combustion saws, aggregates, powerbanks, wheelchairs, resuscitation pumps, patches and bandages. Pipes for fast intubation, rails for broken limbs, and sometimes even artificial legs - almost perfect, without only a funnel: erstwhile you make it, you can stumble on these legs into the planet and into further life.
The legs are asexual and universal, they can be installed on men and women. I'm telling you, it takes quite a few strength and constipation to convince a decomposed woman or you to pin it down and decision on. Sometimes it can be done with talk and arguments, but sometimes you request a kick in the ass.
This is yet a communicative about rage, irritation, regret and frustration - but it does not decompose but gives motivation. due to the fact that there's a hell of a reason, but 1 of them won't let you go easy on the subject.
More and more frequently I hear that "I am tired of being or "tired" of war, all this madness, constant sound of information and reports in the media, inactive only Ukraine, Ukraine, Ukraine ... And I get this empty and bad laughter in these moments - you tired or tired of war? You - citizen X or writer or politician? You, a screamer or a clergyman or a "socialist"?
I promised myself this morning there'd be no names and no names, although I'm awfully short. But there won't be, guess it, find the tired and the disgusted. due to the fact that it's no way to think you're tired and look the another way. It was about that at the beginning, it will be at the end - just due to the fact that we're going to go to this war doesn't mean she's going to be more or little snarky and go to hell. No, this war is getting closer. Whoever doesn't see it will be left with his finger in the mediate of his butt. Amen.
As for fatigue, not you, but we may be tired. Thousands of kilometers behind our backs, death and suffering, a constant threat, cognition we possessed, and no of us wanted to possess. The images that we have before our eyes - these images are improbable to float distant but will stay with us forever. Yes - tired, exhausted, sometimes frustrated may be, for example, Paul, another Paul, Silent, Renia, Antek or Margaret, Eve and Agnieszka, Sergius, Martha, Luke or even the undersigned.
And here we are. But that doesn't change the fact that we're not gonna halt doing what we're doing.
As an illustration, I give photos taken by Brian Sauber, a volunteer of our mission in early January during 1 of our missions to the east of Ukraine. This January, not "sometime" or "a long time ago." This is what the real planet looks like and failed. And that's why we're there. And we will. And don't get tired of it.
Krzysztof Hoffmann: Since the mediate of 2022 I have organized and implemented convoys and transports with medical and humanitarian assistance to Ukraine (humanitarian mission #Turn onLight Ukraine Memorial Sign Foundation, to which I am a co-founder). Last year we left for Ukraine more than 30 times, including 4 of which the last transport came back a week ago.
