Scatterbrain dispatch from Ukraine
I am mentally compiling the list of people who should be banned from writing my obituaries. A friend is learning to drive and putting together a playlist which would be good both for her car and her funeral. Another friend is thinking of writing her own obituary for the purposes of fact checking. We are Ukrainian civilians in our thirties. Russia has made us overfamiliar with the idea of our violent and sudden death
I sit at a railway station in Kyiv. A Ukrainian soldier with amputated arms is to my right, a Ukrainian soldier on crutches is in front of me. I press my palm to my heart as a sign of gratitude and smile and nod and smile and nod and I think I should just walk around with my palm glued to my heart at all times but I can’t afford sacrificing a perfectly functional hand to this ritual.
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