We have no real life, but mere existence since we lost our daughter. Kira was 25 years old, she was a school teacher and died in a car accident when she went on vacation with her schoolchildren to the Carpathians. The driver lost control on the mountain road. It was 31 years ago, but we never cease to mourn the victims of the disaster: the driver, three teachers and six 's schoolchildren.
Then three years ago, the war came to our village, and we were at the epicenter of hostilities. We sat in the cellar, we were shaking from shelling, and a shell hit the house right behind the river, and they hit the neighboring gardens.
Maybe we would prefer to run away from shelling, but we can’t - we look after my wife’s mother. She will soon be 99 years old, she cannot even go beyond the threshold of her own house.
It’s so hard for us. We have no money to buy coal, and a supply of firewood will burn out in a matter of weeks. Poverty, shelling and loneliness - all this has already led us to despair.
We can’t wait, when the war is going to end, when, finally, our son and granddaughter may come to us. They live hundreds of kilometers from us.
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