People around me feel death. People call me and talk about death. People talk to me and talk about death. My outlook became darker, and reality became such that I would give a 75 percent that we won’t survive if we don’t go somewhere, and a 25 percent that we’ll make it to the end of the war in the way we are. Because the shelling has become more frequent and more accurate than in the days… when there weren’t any? Exactly. Any shell, drone, bomb – will destroy a house and, more likely, us with it. This is a fact. Dry, but a fact. I thought that I should pay for hosting at least for a year so that the person wouldn’t send me that game for a link to the site in vain, because… reality was getting darker.
When I put on a dress or a wig, I think about what if it arrived now, that’s exactly how they’d find me. I don’t care. As they will. Just a fact. Is it interesting to read a blog when every post could be the last? Does it feel more alive in that case?
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