The woman suffered. Her soul ached from this slow-paced life that used to be so familiar and dear to her. The woman felt guilty for not having seen the war, not having heard its sounds, not having sensed its smells. She blamed herself for living as if nothing had happened, as if that February had not divided the life of the whole country into a before and an after.
Excerpts from “My Women” by Yuliia Iliukha
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