«There were times where a cow lay there that was still walking yesterday and either its leg or part of its trunk had been chopped off. They simply killed a cow and cut off the parts that they liked best. And left it like that.» The one-time farm looks like a morgue for cows. Carcasses of dead livestock everywhere. Killed by artillery fire …
On March 2, 2022, I packed my life into a backpack and decided that my daughters and I must leave Kharkiv. By pure magic we managed to get a lift to the train station where we were faced with a swarm of people. There was panic. It was chaos. The station was packed with people, children, elderly people, dogs, all pushing and shoving each other. When the evacuation train arrived, …
This is Andriy. It’s worth hearing a bit about him. We needed to bring 20 tons of humanitarian aid to Kharkiv (medicine, food, walkie-talkies, baby food, etc.). We needed a driver with a truck. Everyone bitched about going. They whinged that, «they're shooting there, I can’t be arsed to go there.» But there was one guy. Andriy. He has this fucking amazing MAN truck. It’s so clean, it’s like being …
«Look at me now, look at me. Don’t look at him. You knew him?» «Yes…» «What was his name, his surname, how old was he?» «Oleksandr. He was 48. He’s my father-in-law.» Fifteen minutes earlier. Daytime, the city, quiet, our old spot, where no one has lived for ages, but which serves as the starting point for departures and returns. The three of us were …
«Jazz, take a look in the binocs, is someone walking towards us across the field or am I starting to see things?» «No, you’re not imagining… The fuck, someone really is there… someone in our uniform.» «You're kidding… So what’s he doing here?» «Well, most likely it’s someone to replace the dude you sent to the mortar unit for a break (suspended for the use of alcohol). Makes sense. Only …
«How things are in Kharkiv» Day 108 a.l.t. — after the liberation of the territory) Friends who left the city earlier are gradually coming back to Kharkiv—to get their winter things and go away again. No one is under any illusion any more. People in the city are like forest birds and animals in the approach of winter: some fly to warmer places, some go into hibernation, …
Morning sketch. This may come out too emotional and pathetic. But in addition to the adrenalin rush and the gutsiness of our actual offensive, meeting with the locals and our impressions of them—people who had spent several months without contact, and some with out power, gas or water—was also a big deal. And their hundreds of stories, some of which you don’t even want …
Today, we were at the exhumation of bodies in Izium. 445 graves between the orc trenches and the old cemetery—locals who did not survive the assault on the city and the lack of heat, food and medications. Entire families wiped out by a single air strike. The first body we saw dug up had a rope around its neck. Many signs of torture on bodies. 17 Ukrainian soldiers …
I opened the windows yesterday evening for the first time this summer. Boldly, widely, in the entire apartment on its 17th floor. Like I used to in a past life. A few years ago, when I was looking for an apartment, I only looked at those that were closer to the sky. I remember the realtor talking over the phone to a colleague: «I have a client here, she’s definitely Karlsson’s granddaughter. …
