For the whole world Ukraine has become a mirror that reflects its true level of maturity and humanity and its true essence. Individuals, groups, nations, and international organizations have discovered their true values in it.

The story brought to your attention is the war diary of Mikhail Ray. This is a series of digital photo collages created by the author from the materials of his own photo archive during the nine months he spent in Kherson, under Russian Army occupation. The artworks were consistently published on his social media, accompanied by text, describing the events and actors of the drama which will soon unfold before your eyes. Long before the war, the author of this diary decided that he no longer wanted to live the way he had lived before. He wanted to be a happy and totally realized human being. He had quit the well paid job and career he had been building for over 20 years, sold his downtown apartment, and intended to live a spiritual life, creating art that would awaken people. He wanted to be a real person, a good husband and a famous artist, not always understanding what that really meant. For example, that being famous under certain circumstances is extremely dangerous and demands responsibility, that spirituality does not lead to a monastery or meditation cave, but right into the war zone. That real life begins when you step past the fence you have been hiding behind to face your fears and painful experiences. On February 24, 2022, life began to ask him questions: to challenge him with situations, demanding difficult decisions. The fact that you are reading these lines now means that he managed to answer most of them correctly. So can you. Your journey through the pages of the diary will not be easy. In the short time you are going to spend here, you will see and feel all nine months of Kherson’s occupation, but the main character of the story is not Mikhail Ray. It’s You. The front line will not lie somewhere in Ukraine, but inside each viewer. You have the opportunity to see what is hidden behind the screen of your own TV and to answer honestly the questions put to the author. The most important is: are you really ready to be happy?

At the most difficult point of your journey, the words from a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke will help you:

"Let everything happen to you

Beauty and terror

Just keep going

No feeling is final"

Time period from February 24 to March 17. A period of long queues, shortages of food, and active rallies.

When I looked at my phone, I already knew what she was going to tell me, but I was still scared. She informed me about a full-scale Russian invasion, she’d heard it on TV. I told my wife what was happening, but for a long time she could not take it on board. After a few hours, we calmed down and began to act. First of all, we made a list of everything we needed for two weeks (I didn't think it could last any longer). Our next step was to call our relatives and ask them to make similar lists. We spent the day driving between the shops and malls which in a couple of days would be empty, destroyed, and looted, maneuvering between people with suitcases and cars leaving the city."

The photos of Russian soldiers walking past the windows of our neighborhood were widespread. In a few minutes I saw them under my own window. I felt hurt and couldn't understand why they were walking the streets of my city without any resistance from our side. My wife joined me. We stood together on the balcony and filmed them through the blinds, trying to count them and see what weapons they had. We hoped that our video sent to the Telegram chatbot would enable our military to do something, so that they did not leave us here alone with the enemy. Unfortunately, my hopes were not in vain. When the Russian soldiers had almost finished their round of our neighborhood and were turning towards the village of Komyshany where armored vehicles were waiting, the fighters of the territorial defense appeared. The fight began under our balcony window, perhaps to be remembered for the rest of our lives (and captured on video). One despair was quickly followed by another, as a group of a dozen people with AK-74s wearing down jackets and knitted hats, arrived in a retro car to oppose a Russian horde that was armed to the teeth with machine guns, grenade launchers, and armored vehicles. The absurdity of the situation was heightened by an old man with a white shopping bag in his hands, who, as if nothing was amiss, was walking, utterly deaf to the shots, along the street mere meters away from the firing positions. Luckily, the fighters caught his attention before the Russians started to fire their automatic grenade launchers and large caliber machine guns. Fortunately, most of these people were able to escape the firing, although many fighters died that same day in Buzkovy Park and the fire station on Naftovykiv Street. But under our window, they managed to delay the advance of Russian vehicles into the city for five hours. We watched them from that same window, our hopes lost, as armored personnel carriers, moving at 5-10 meters per minute, carefully stepped into the "bright future". The Storyteller said that the "special operation" to destroy the sovereignty of the country would continue until its goals were achieved. He did not say whether sanctions would continue until their goals were achieved."

Nobody likes his performances, but it is financially profitable, which is why people are patient. I believe that all participants in today's crisis have been moving towards it for a long time, ignoring the resolution of serious internal conflicts and contradictions. For some, the main issue is imperialism and the citizens’ personal responsibility for the power and politics of their country, for others, it is the historical acquisition of independence and the protection of their rights and freedoms, and for still others it is a conflict of values. Eight years ago the Storyteller presented his western neighbors with a dilemma: what is more important for them, the ethics and human values that they declare, or their financial well-being? And now, eight years on, it turns out that the western allies are still "highly dependent" on the pipe. So what values are their highest? If not now, then when?"

This, provoked a powerful wave of #Coelhophobia. Paulo bases his humble opinion on the fact that he has been to Lviv, Kyiv, Yalta and Chernobyl and has even traveled 10,000 kilometers on the Trans-Siberian Railroad. Of course, Paolo & I currently live in different worlds, and we perceive the same phenomena in different ways. Therefore, out of respect for myself and for him, I will present what is happening through the prism of my own vision.

In my world, the war is going on literally outside the window, so I am not subject to #Russophobia. I feel #Russohatred, and not only for the military of the Russian Federation, but also for ordinary people, giving their, not always silent consent to what is happening in my country every day. When you travel 10,000 km by train across Russia, you might notice that your fellow travelers prefer to be clearly divided into “we, ordinary people” and “the authorities”. Neither the tsars, nor the emperors, nor the leaders of the USSR were ever interested in the opinion of the people. Where the rulers should be at the service of the population, the population is at the service of the rulers. This has led to the fact that “ordinary people” do not have a sense of responsibility or the ability to influence the policy of their country. Should they be blamed for it? In my opinion, this is very worthwhile. Not in order to punish, but in order to restore a sense of responsibility for their own destiny. In today's world, we are all interdependent and there is no room for “ordinary people”. Especially for those, whose uncontrollable leader is sitting in a bunker with a nuclear suitcase. If 5% of Moscow’s more than 12 million population attended a rally, the war would stop. Without sanctions and “Russophobia”, most of them would not even notice the war in Ukraine."

A fairly fresh pain rose to the surface of my consciousness. Ukrainian humanitarian aid is not allowed into the city, and the most vulnerable citizens are already lining up for the Russian alternative. Sometimes curses are shouted at them. It is worth remembering that many pensioners barely had enough money for food when it was half the price before the full scale invasion. For them, what is more important is not what nationality it is, but the fact that it’s free. There are also those who tear the tags off Russian goods and sell them on the market for Ukrainian money.

The Storyteller did not appear today, but the day was remembered by its closed door to NATO. Surely, millions of people in Ukraine and beyond were counting on a closed sky, not closed doors. The allies were probably confused. Perhaps this is a concession or a step towards the Storyteller, who for many years has been exploiting the same plot, invented in ancient times by the leaders of the USSR. Looking a little further, however, I saw that the Storyteller does not need peace in Ukraine. He needs peace in Malorossiya. And so far there is nothing to expect from peace talks.

The lines for provisions have dwindled. Not so much because none of the citizens are hungry anymore or are spending their time in the beauty salons, but because of the shortage of cash and empty warehouses. Most people stand at bank offices hoping to withdraw funds from their accounts. Bank terminals in the stores have abruptly "lost their connection to the Internet" and goods are sold mostly for money created from solid matter, or, in extreme cases, you may pay by card to card Internet banking transfer. War reveals who’s who. I was not so hurt when I first saw the Russian military marching under my window, as I was by the numerous instances of looting by inhabitants of the city. When the army of “liberators” drove in, triumphantly destroying probably Nazi shopping malls, the most “liberated” people rushed to the smoldering ruins of neo-Nazism for new irons, TVs, smartphones, suits, luxury alcohol, and air rifles. Sometimes in entire families. At this very time, hundreds of people gave the most valuable thing they have for their freedom and the right to steal irons while the police are absent.

The Storyteller also mentioned coins. He has already hinted to his fans that it is time to count the coins and that tough times are coming. He applied his most effective literary device here too: the responsibility for what is happening lies with someone else, outside the land of fairy tales."

Time period from March 17 to May 4. The transitional period of uncertainty, which coincides with the beginning of the author's popularity, the beginning of mass repressions and the mass exodus of Kherson citizens from the occupation before the appearance of the occupation government.

Not for the first time, millions of people have become zombies, unable to see, hear, think, speak, and empathize. Apoliticality is not a term that can justify cowardice and indifference to the barbarism that is carried out at your expense and for which you are responsible. Apoliticality is the impotence to effect change in your own country and the reason why someone replaces your goals with their own, destroying your life. Soon the fog will dissipate and you will face reality head on, as has already happened in the 1990s. The more stubbornly you resist, the faster you approach, and the denser it becomes. Collision will plunge you for a long time into the most unpleasant feeling - shame. But only if you didn't do what you could."

The city is shrouded in smoke. Reeds are burning in many places. The humanitarian blockade and the capture of activists goes on. Thousands of pensioners, driven by fear of hunger and uncertainty, are queuing for Russian Z-humanitarian aid. But there are those who come to the stores with their last money to buy Ukrainian goods that have risen in price twice. They deserve to have their little feat noticed: with a treat or discount. Despite the stubborn resistance of local residents, the machine of "people's republics" is slowly moving along the gnarled road from point A to point B. However, the Ukrainian army is moving faster.

Kherson watermelons are known throughout Ukraine and beyond. This year they are a special camouflage variety. In 28 days of the war, more of them burst than in 10 years of the USSR campaign in Afghanistan. But these figures do not stop the Storyteller. He has stated that "an acceptable loss is 30 or even 50 thousand watermelons". A completely logical continuation of the story with a justification of the Afghan war and the personality of Stalin."

Living in occupied territory confers one dubious advantage - you can have close contact with the Russian military. It seems that most Russians do not have such an opportunity. In their voices, faces, and words, as with citizens, a similar fatigue with what is happening and an understanding of the senselessness of this war are felt. Under the helmets, no doubt, there are heads with eyes that see and understand that there are no Nazis, “liberation”, victory parade or medals. Perhaps they are the most hopeful of peace negotiations. But every day, thousands of miles away, sofa troops get into their concrete tanks and turn their programmers on. They demand the reality they want to see, and the little green men must get it for them. The Storyteller has already spoken: acceptable losses are 30 or even 50 thousand killed, military vehicles must be saved, and the end justifies the means. At stake is a ruthless and inexorable history book that already sums up his reign."

The Storyteller is getting ready as well. Three years ago, after the presidential elections in Ukraine, accompanied by loud applause, he told his famous tale about an actor and the head of a superstate. He aptly noted that being president is one thing and playing the role is another. He spoke in great detail and with great professionalism about what being president means: making decisions and choosing the right tools, creating a team of the right people, and being responsible for the results. Of course, there are so many fairy tales that they are forgotten far too quickly, but he remembers this one very well. Photos from Bucha, Kramatorsk, Mariupol, and Mykolayiv leave a lot of questions about the decisions, tools, and team, but the word “responsibility” is especially depressing. This is what distinguishes conscious activity from adventurism. The chair under the Storyteller is already on fire. What will he do next: be real or play a role?"

Here I will briefly describe its mechanism. Studying behavior through transactional analysis, Karpman found that all psychological games follow a certain pattern. He depicted one in the form of a triangle with 3 vertices - the roles that all the participants alternately play: Rescuer, Persecutor, and Victim. In whatever role any of the participants of the life drama starts, having played it, he/she switches to another, and then to the third, returning again to the first and moving through life like this from day to day, from dawn to dusk. The most striking example of this geometry is the typical family of an alcoholic. Usually, a husband starts out as victim (of his addiction), his wife plays the role of rescuer, forcing him to stop drinking, switching to the role of persecutor when the husband breaks down and goes on a binge, or of victim when she complains to a friend or her mother about her difficult fate. When the husband switches roles, he acts as persecutor when he beats his wife, she, in turn, becomes a victim, and a neighbor, relative, police or their own child comes to her rescue. The tragedy here is that people disappear into this Bermuda Triangle, burning up all their life energy in the emotional see-saw of drama. This extends to all interpersonal relationships and is reflected in the culture of society (soap operas), as well as in its domestic and foreign policies. So, first there is a victim of Western colonialism rising from its knees. When it has the resources, it becomes the rescuer of the oppressed Russian people in “unfriendly” neighboring countries. To rescue them, it switches to the persecutor role and conducts special operations until falling to its knees again to become a victim. Inside the country, the processes are the same. Persecutors’ voices on screens are very loud, tomorrow they will become victims, responsible for losses, and rescuers will come in their place. In this Bermuda triangle, all the resources of the economy disappear, preventing the population and its country from developing. It will be hard to believe, because Stephen Karpman was describing the basis of personal development and this has nothing to do with the greatness of the culture that other people might follow. Alas, the Russian military, having entered the territory of Ukraine, first of all try to find booze or weed, and do not read Pushkin's poems to local children (I am saying this so as not to go on about stolen washing machines, iPhones, rapes, and murders). And no matter how much you would like to believe in a miracle, a palace coup will not change anything. In place of one storyteller, another will come and the triangle will spin with the same force, and maybe even more abruptly. The morning begins with responsibility and action. I turn on the light and wish you good luck!"

From there, you can move further to Georgia, Turkey, and even Europe. It is still hard for me to believe that the referendum will take place, its support here is close to zero. Even more nonsensical seems to be the mobilization of local men to participate in the war against their own compatriots. But the Storyteller has been showing in practice what the absurd and the grotesque is for exactly two months now. He crossed the line a long time ago when he first made war a tool to achieve his goals. Who can say now what line he will stop at?"

We started our journey from a rather crowded main street, accompanied by the sounds of the post-war Okean Elzy band (and not Oleg Gazmanov) played through the municipal speakers. Closer to Ushakov Avenue, clouds of thick black smoke already beckoned. Intrigued by the overnight landing, the residents followed it like a beacon, hoping to see a Russian military facility or piece of equipment engulfed in flames. But at the end of the journey, disappointment awaited them: "It's just the reeds.". The Russian military mixed with the crowd and also watched the scene within their own virtual reality role playing game. They had a mission to guard a red flag, flying near the “eternal flame” monument, with the entire crew of their Ural truck. In the same place in a parallel universe, thousands of residents, seized by the fear of an impending referendum, at their own risk and peril tried to leave the region for the controlled territory. They had a completely different movie on their screens. Despite the fact that officially the Russians are not letting them out of the region, the most persistent still manage to achieve what they want. Someone spent six nights under shelling in their cars in villages destroyed by artillery, for someone else their passage cost money, phones, and personal belongings, and for someone else again their freedom. People are stopped and checked at numerous checkpoints and by groups of soldiers wandering along the road. They’re watching their own film about the Nazis and their accomplices. Each inspection usually ends with brainwashing, confiscation of cigarettes, food, or a certain amount of money, especially if the men do not have a military service record ID. The paradox of this plot is that people often end up in the very movie they are running away from. Can a referendum be held in Kherson? I do not see any trace of its preparation or support from the local population. All that can happen at the moment is a film about a referendum for viewers of a TV series about a special operation and liberation. Those who are not fighting for hearts and minds need only a territory. For a dozen “useful idiots” supported by Urals with personnel to guard each waving flag of the sixth of the Earth’s surface area that had no place for people."

Time period from May 4 to August 26. The period of summer, the disappearance of Ukrainian telephone communications and the Internet, activities of the fake authorities, massive propaganda, exodus from the occupation before the start of an active counteroffensive by the Ukrainian Armed Forces.

On Russian armored vehicles, rockets, shells, and bombs, you may sometimes see toasts. “Zа Детей! (For Children!)”, for example. Probably, they also write “Za здоровье!(For health!)” and “Zа тех, кто в море! (For those at sea!)”. But if the soldiers of the Russian army were honest with themselves, they would now write one single toast: “For the face of Putin!” Alas, according to their laws, they can be legally and safely honest with themselves only verbally and without witnesses. There is a risk of coming to an unexpected solidarity that a dead Putin is now more useful than a living one. A corpse does not need to save face, it will be more willing to save the lives of people, international relations, and the economy of its country. But it is not only for this reason that I and many other Ukrainians bury the dictator. The first artwork I saw in March was Oleksiy Say’s Swan Lake dancers with a coffin from the times of the August coup by the State Committee on the State of Emergency in Russia. This is a strong and symbolic image, but such a death will not solve the conflict. In 1991, before the collapse of the USSR, behind the ballet on Russian television, the essence of totalitarianism was hidden - the absence of the citizen as a subject of the country's political life. The citizen was always turned off by it and did not want to turn on when the opportunity arose. He is a TV viewer watching events. He may like something, in which case he supports it, or he doesn’t like it, in which case he quarrels with the TV set. For Russia's lame identity, imperialism is a crutch. Without the personal freedom it needs to live a fulfilling life, it seeks the only way it knows to be meaningful and feel pride: defeating another nationality, some hypothetical Nazi, or a capitalist. Will it be able to live in the same form with a sense of disgrace after a military defeat in Ukraine? I doubt it. If it doesn't get its freedom, another dictator will follow, spin the turntable again, and put on the old records. It is not Putins who deprive their peoples of their freedom, the peoples create them by surrendering responsibility for their lives. It’s not the dictator we bury here but the slaves in ourselves! The Ukrainian who could say: “Okay, guys! I will sing the Soviet anthem, march with a ribbon in the victory parade, and gaze at Lenin with tears in my eyes, just don’t touch me!” The dictatorship does not rest on the strength of the ruling elite but on the weakness of the population. Fear of responsibility and power pushes people to give them away. Fear is a dictator inside ourselves, and if it is impossible not to be afraid, then let's be afraid that the progressive world will lose its values. Where will we run then?"

By the way, it was restored when Saldo, the collaborator, was serving his second term as Kherson mayor. Thanks to the prince, the term "Potemkin Village" appeared. With the development of technology, there is no need to build facades any more, amateur filmmakers and pseudo-journalists handle everything. Many people have seen how the Antonovsky Bridge became a sieve, but few people know that the day before it had been repaired for the arrival of a great official from Moscow. Or that Russian soldiers are changing rubles to hryvnia in order to shop in the central market...

I don't know if the Storyteller notices how he has turned into a Scarecrow and how he is deceived by his favorites, or whether villages are built on his orders. By the term "to fight", obviously, he means to drive in more morons and conscripts on expired tanks and unrivaled horse-drawn carts. Among the Russian military, both are often glimpsed here.

As the offensive of the Armed Forces of Ukraine approached, another wave of panic swept the city. It can be felt when you enter its limits - the space thickens and collapses. But for all the absurdity and horror that is happening all around, love, joy, and unwavering confidence in the victory of spirit over the fear and indifference they are trying to impose on us may remain in the consciousness. Being at the core of the events of the war or many kilometers away from it, you can remain happy and compassionate. As in this work, it all depends on where our attention is directed. War is going on not only on the battlefield, but also within each of us. Who wins: fear or courage, compassion or indifference, love or hatred, unity or division, - is up to you, but your personal victory is a huge contribution to the overall victory. And not only of Ukraine, but of all mankind."

Two years ago, the city held a competition for the best Kherson cake. It was supposed to become a hallmark, a souvenir to take home. The requirements were: products of local origin, prolonged storage without refrigeration, taste, and design. The fact is that the recipe for the perfect Kherson cake, capable of becoming a symbol of the city, has only now become known. We just didn't have enough ingredients. The Russian military had the opportunity to leave. All decisions had already been made. The dies were cast. The new Kherson cake is an ideal gift for Independence Day for you and your loved ones! But be careful, the product contains ingredients causing acute allergic reactions."

August 24. Independence Day

"When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe"

John Muir

"Individuals and countries go through four stages in the development of relationships. These are co-dependence,

counter-dependence, independence, and interdependence. Ukraine has already gone a considerable way in its development, but

this is not the final stretch. Celebrate independence! Strive for interdependence!"

Time period from August 26 to November 11. The period of autumn, the active counteroffensive of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, the referendum, the evacuation of the collaborators, and final liberation of the city.

People continue to leave, and shops close. Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, the last local voice of the “Russian World”, Kirill Stremousov, broadcasts from Voronezh to his TV viewers that the city is protected from evil Nazis by the professional military of the Russian Federation and everything is under control. Utility service workers, as if nothing had happened, dig things in and out, cut lawns, and paint, while the Lost World hotel complex burns down nearby. This is where Vladimir Saldo, its owner, who has lost his voice already, sheltered the Russian military. Coincidence or gift of fate, but the “Russian World” has lived in a lost world all this time. And nothing has changed."

The lack of purpose and meaning in life forces people into monstrous wars in the name of delusional ideas. For many Russians, "Russian World" is an escape from emptiness and a sense of the meaninglessness of existence. Destructive and absolutely artificial meaning. Neither war nor epidemic can take it away or confer it. They can only push us to find it ourselves where it has always been. Art, business, politics, any achievements are just tools. The true thing worth living and enduring deprivation for is the way to ourselves. This path is changeable and never final. Life guides us along it through the events and situations in which it places us at every new moment. Through our decisions and the actions that follow Wherever we go, our fear always follows our steps. We can't escape it, we have to overcome it and, as a rule, beyond it lies our true destiny. It's not safety and pleasures that make us happy but true meaning. Finding it is our primary task, wherever we are!"

Wherever we go, our fear always follows our steps. We can't escape it, we have to overcome it and, as a rule, beyond it lies our true destiny. It's not safety and pleasures that make us happy but true meaning. Finding it is our primary task, wherever we are!"

Local, already familiar clowns have arranged their own, equally familiar circus. They call it the "Referendum". Despite the fact that pro-Ukrainian residents of the region are leaving en masse, most of those who remain do not support Russia, and the decision-makers are well aware of this. They have succeeded - it looked funny. Empty polling stations, staged voting for the camera, ballot boxes at markets and grocery stores, armed people walking through houses and apartments, strongly recommending that people vote. Especially results-driven collaborators, in the event of refusal, gave residents 24 hours to pack their belongings and leave the region. Most of the population still preferred to sit out the circus tour at home and not to open their door to anyone. The streets of the city were literally empty. Could such a referendum take place? First of all, you need to know at least how many people lived here and how many remain. What the clowns know perfectly well is how many have left, and even who they are. When crossing the last Russian checkpoint, everyone leaving had their passport photographed. That's, probably, where the real vote has taken place. Its result was known in advance and does not depend on the opinion of the local population. Because without it, the main show planned in Moscow’s Red Square would not take place. Because the clowns have decided that the circus must go on... At any cost."

Vladimir Vladimirovich, everything is symbolic! The red tractor you have now is similar to the one used by Peter the Pig to "run away from Rashka" (old meme from 2006-2015), and pyramids in ancient Egypt were built to bury pharaohs. My artwork is about this, too. But I hope that after seeing it and reading my congratulations, you will be able to see yourself and your life from another perspective. Perhaps you already feel that the fate of the world is not brought about by geopolitics or economics, as you believed, but by some other force. It cares about us like a mother looks after her small child that is growing and learning, and it creates the conditions for this. It doesn't care what happens to you, Russia and the “Russian World”. We are all part of its big plan and what you consider your decisions, tragedy, and collapse is its creation. Your role in it has already been played. "Freedom or death!" At first you woke up the Ukrainians, and now it's time to wake up the Russians. They have the same choice now. You definitely won't be forgotten. Go in peace!"

"There are no winners in war, only losers." The phrase belongs to Neville Chamberlain, Prime Minister of Great Britain in 1937-1940. He pursued a policy of appeasing the aggressor, making concessions to Hitler and Mussolini in the hope of bargaining for peace. What came out of it, you probably know. It is noteworthy that years later, Western politicians did exactly the same with the same result. In war, there are definitely winners and losers. On both warring sides.

The winners were able to distinguish truth from lies and follow it against all odds. The winners were able to overcome their fear. The winners realized that only by uniting with others did they have a chance, they set conflicts (and especially language ones) and personal ambitions aside, while the losers cared only about themselves. The winners gained faith. In themselves, in a higher force, in justice, and in pure intention. The winners were able to accept new circumstances and the bitterness of loss. The winner, despite all the horrors of the war, was able to remain human. And the most tragic defeat is to lose a human face. It is much easier than it seems. Not only on the battlefield, but also in front of the screen. When we stop seeing the enemy as a human being, we become what we fight against. Confused, vicious, cruel, and stupid, but still human. In many ways the peace after the war will depend on us. Will we fight each other when there are no external enemies? Will the defeated enemy prepare for revenge or learn to be like us?"

They spread panic, scare people with shelling and street fighting, but citizens still don’t go to the Russian Federation or Crimea because evacuation is a one-way ticket. There could not have been a better solution to this problem. Everyone here will get what they wanted: whoever wanted to live in Europe and a free Ukraine will live in Europe and a free Ukraine. And whoever wanted to live in Russia or the USSR, which at the moment is the same thing, will live in Russia and the USSR. With “Plombir” ice creams, pseudo-tasty sausages, and victory parades on May 9. But without their children and grandchildren. They traded them for warm memories from the past, for things that are simple and understandable to the psyche without disturbing and complex technologies, completely forgetting that Russia is not only ice cream, sausage, and parades, but meaningless deaths, corpses, broken destinies, and violence, which the residents of Donbass and Crimea have already seen. What things happening now have not happened many times in the past, in the history of the Russian Empire and the USSR?

This is not a war between the Russian and Ukrainian people, this is a war of values. A war of generations, a war between past and future. And what goes to Russia is what it rests on, its basis and electorate: budget ballast, children, totally dependent on the government, who will do what they are told. For the raw material economy of the totalitarian regime, these are the best people. But the free and independent adults needed to create an innovative product or service are dangerous to it. The evacuation of collaborators is better than catching them and holding them in prisons. The flow of the author's thoughts is suddenly interrupted by a scene on one of the city streets. Attention clings to the empty pedestals of monuments, passing cars, road workers patching up the roadway, two yellow buses for the evacuation of the “population”. One of them stalls. A crowd of soldiers tumbles out of the buses. Questions about 60,000 and authors’ reflections are losing their relevance. Another question comes to the surface: “Patching the roadway? Seriously?”"

Cautiously and hesitantly, people gathered in the central square, which bears the symbolic name "Freedom Square". By the time we arrived, the Ukrainian flag was already flying not only on the pedestal where a monument to Lenin once stood but also over the city administration building. The pro-Russian posters, which had insulted our dignity for months, had already been rudely torn down and burned by this time. We saw them smoldering on the sidewalk, turning into symbolic ashes. Not only the city residents were cautious but so were the Ukrainian troops, who drove into the city in civilian cars to carry out reconnaissance. They looked clearly tired and tense. It seems that they, too, could not believe that the Russian military was no longer here and they peered intently into the crowd, expecting to see disguised soldiers there. I will always remember the symbolic scene in the square. One of the Armed Forces of Ukraine fighters climbed onto the roof of the SUV that brought him into the city, in order to video the crowd of grateful Kherson residents from a height. They saw him against the backdrop of a cinema with a huge inscription "Ukraine" and shouted in unison, "Kherson is Ukraine!"

I still did not fully believe that Kherson was under the control of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, but this was not the last test of my nervous system. I was yet to discover that lots of inhabitants remained in a city that had previously seemed extinct. It seems that all of them at once rushed to the roads and squares with flags to greet the Ukrainian soldiers. Cars festively signaled to passers-by with Ukrainian flags. There were quite a lot of children among them. Probably the largest crowd was at the intersection of Ivan Bohun and Cyril and Methodius streets. Three out of four lanes of the roadway were blocked by people. They stood in the middle of the road, waving flags, and when cars carrying Ukrainian soldiers appeared, they surrounded them from all sides to hug and to thank them.

We did not hide our feelings, there were flowers and we had tears in our eyes, someone even knelt in the middle of the road. All this was very reminiscent of the celebration of the national football team’s victory in the World Cup, but practically no one was indifferent to it. The lack of electricity, heat, water, and communications could not overshadow the citizens’ joy. For almost nine months of occupation, we had had different feelings and been in different states. There were moments when doubts prevailed, there were also despair and apathy. But, as Rilke said: "Just keep going, no feeling is final."

When I came home I recalled the events of my pre-war peaceful life, and suddenly realized for myself that for many years in everyday decisions I had chosen to escape, betray, and build fences. First of all, from myself. After all, life at war and, even more so, under occupation, is the same peaceful life, but concentrated and accelerated: mistakes and false beliefs manifest themselves instantly and cost dearly. So what was it really: the desire to live or the fear of dying? I understood what the saying "burned bridges" means. That all the past years of my conscious life I had prepared myself to pass this test worthily. The city is free, we defeated the enemy. But to get this done, we had to liberate our inner Kherson from the invaders who occupied it so long ago that no one even remembers. Who hid in it unnoticed by the citizens, infiltrating all authorities and influencing all the decisions they made. Because everyone who decided to stay here and fight for freedom to the end, first of all, fought their own fear, an invisible ally of all dictators and atom bomb warlords."