I just wrote to my ex-friend Ksenia in “Muscovy” [historical exonymic name of the Russian state – Ed.] We worked together in England. We’ve known each other for many years. I am the godmother of her son
Adam. Ksenia is originally from Siberia. Currently, she lives in Moscow. She worked for a large holding company. Back in 2013, I visited Ksenia and was offered a contract at Sheremetyevo International Airport. Ground services. I refused… That’s not the point… 2014 began. The war. A few months after that war, after the Ilovaisk cauldron, I broke off my long-term friendship with Ksenia. The reason is clear to everyone… she sometimes believed me, sometimes didn’t… and given my quick temper, I sent her and Putler [merging the names of Russian president Putin and German dictator Hitler – Ed.] in the known direction.
In 8 years, I wrote to her… I sent her photos and videos… She knows everything. She sympathizes. She says that they are being tapped, pressed, and criminal proceedings are being opened… and that they… are just grunts and can not change anything. All these years, I have been tormented by the fact that I betrayed little Adam, because I made a promise to God to be his second mother… I took the oath in church… I thought that if there is a God, then he will definitely give me extra points for my decision not to be a godmother of katsap [derogatory colloquial name of a Russian – Ed.]. After chatting with Ksenia, I feel nothing. Just a barren. It feels like texting a corpse. A living corpse. And writing to a corpse… is not worth it…
Ukrainian Text by Inha Levytska. Translated into English by Ukrainianvancouver team – Mar 06, 2022