After the explosion in February, I was concussed, I lost everything: housing, documents, property. There is nothing left of my apartment: no bedding, no clothes and shoes, nothing left of this apartment...
There is a broken icon of St. Nicholas, which I made many years ago. And I'm sure this family heirloom saved me.
After Afghanistan, I started carving icons on wood. And so I keep thinking: why did this icon get crushed? Is there something that I picked up from this couch that night? And it said: "Go out somewhere, go away." Nicholas the Wonderworker helps me in life.
Now the remains of the walls in my apartment are reinforced with iron piles.
Maybe they'll fix it up and my family will come home.
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