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Her red nails...

This morning we woke up in Irpin. Anxious people were hastily passing under the blown-up bridge. A girl was crying in her mom’s arms, so I showed her the machine gun, and she smiled back.

Then, at the last checkpoint between Irpin and Bucha, the guys captured a war prisoner. The one who later tried to convince his mother that we did not invent coronavirus. They gave him a cigarette.

Then, there was a tank fire. It hit a residential building near a bomb shelter. It was so dark there, like in a church. On the street, there were people, children, dogs, and cats.

A woman on a bicycle was approaching the checkpoint. She was wearing a short, blue boiler suit from a local store. She was driving fast. Didn’t stop. She passed the cross-road of two streets. They were empty and quiet, like on Christmas Eve. She was shot by a burst mode of a heavy machine gun. The bicycle and the woman disappeared in smoke and dust.

Then I hastily wrote a post. There were several message requests from two girls. They are her daughters.

For about a month, her body remained on the empty street. Her red nails were visible from the sky.

April 3 at 6:02 p.m.

Ukrainian Text by Maksym Kryvtsov. Translated into English by Ukrainianvancouver team — Apr 8, 2022

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