I started this letter-writing endeavor in March in a corridor in a borrowed apartment in Lviv. Now I’m writing in a cafe in my Kyiv neighborhood, but this too is a result of russia’s relentless missile strikes of Ukraine. Yesterday I heard at least 10 explosions in half an hour around 8 AM. That the booms are soft and don’t scare me just exhibits that Kyiv is a very big city. Some of them occurred in the air, but some definitely struck critical infrastructure.
"But it seems like whether I’m alive or dead is irrelevant if I’m not in contact or interacting with anything living. In this situation the only thing that matters is to write. To send a signal toward the world." I agree, writing is for me a manifestation or a proof of being alive or of being myself.
a Kind of Refugee / 01.11.2022
I'm going to share this on my Facebook page, thank you for writing.
"But it seems like whether I’m alive or dead is irrelevant if I’m not in contact or interacting with anything living. In this situation the only thing that matters is to write. To send a signal toward the world." I agree, writing is for me a manifestation or a proof of being alive or of being myself.