Road to Vyriy
On January 14, I was immersed in work all day.
And then I watched the news and saw this horror from the Dnipro.
And I was as if paralyzed. My eyes were wet, but I could not cry. The pain squeezes my chest so much that I can’t even breathe. A feeling of complete helplessness…
And I got up to the easel to at least somehow release that pain. Because otherwise he would tear me apart.
And I was born on a road. The road through endless Ukrainian meadows, cut by strips of forest. The road beyond the sky, where lies a bright and beautiful village. There, in clean huts with walls painted with flowers, dwell the souls of those who were taken away and continue to be taken away by this hideous monster, which the dead country of Russia spawned from its festering loins. A monster whose name is war.
|Dimensions||30 × 40 cm|
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