All these years we were not old enough to accept a simple thing: our only fault is that we were born Ukrainians.

The following is the text in the original language. Unruly behind the great shell, either those who are on the way out, or those who are on the way out. It is inconceivable to live on this land, trampled by children’s feet, overgrown with thyme and bush. We don’t have that little legal right to simple speech, as others languish like love, homeland, donkey.

For Soviet Russia, we are a calf that has emerged from the herd. And then we may be punished for disobedience, and for which the most inhuman methods are suitable.

I remember Bakhmut on the fourteenth, fifteenth, nineteenth. The sleeping place under the peeling skin, which was gradually coming to life - squirmed in itself and sank into itself. Nibi is abandoned when the child finds out that the warmth of turbocharged hands is so.

I remember Bakhmut on the twenty-fourth. Misto symptom. Misto ghost. The place is similar to all other places of the region.

I asked myself: how could everything turn over so quickly

But in reality it would never have been any different. For decades we lived in the camp, in the occupied territory. And just thirty-five years ago we decided to talk about Independence. This was achieved not through national unity or transformation into identity, but through a small purchase of romantically inspired world wars - and even better.

We took away the power from the moment of weakness and immaturity of the empire at a reduced price. Without the front, passing through half of the country. Without poor places. Without millions of refugees.

I know that this thought is not worthy of riches. This is exactly what the true struggle for independence looks like. Zi bedroom areas. With occupation. With murders and attacks. With violence, lies and meanness. With the exodus of some and the lingering heroism of others.

I was covered with a little more irrationality: “How did it happen \?

And let's tell the truth - the price to pay skin from us is even a price. Those who are at zero now, and those who are here. It is of great importance between the death of some and the comfortable indifference of others – what will later be called “the zeal of Ukrainians before Independence”.

In the army I knew why I was ready to die. It looks like it's already happening. It is also psychologically easier to find those for which you are willing to live consistently for twenty or thirty years. Day after day, until the ephemeral world. Walk alone for an hour.

Our Independence was not guaranteed at the time of nationalization.

Vaughn might not have survived the first rocks. Could have started in 2014. Could buti be strangled by the fierce 2022.

Won and price are not guaranteed. Sometimes I find that I boil it in warm milk, without noting how the temperature of the offal rises.

Ale we appeared strong, but we were found out.

Now the importance of nutrition is no longer in what we can steal from Independence.

And in the fact that we work with her, as we can see.