How I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell / How I wish I would save my soul./ I'm so cold from fear.
I had repeatedly and never told you about. One of them was walking hand in hand in Spring, seeing those Lilac blossoms of your beloved Kyiv.
Of all the opportunities and joy I know I've lost, right now, none pains me more than knowing I lost this one.
How beautiful and bright the world always is, seen from your eyes.
Even in this times of adversity, I pray you have the strength to keep making it bright around you.
Tempo de solidão e de incerteza
Tempo de medo e tempo de traição
Tempo de injustiça e de vileza
Tempo de negação
Tempo de covardia e tempo de ira
Tempo de mascarada e de mentira
Tempo de escravidão
Tempo dos coniventes sem cadastro
Tempo de silêncio e de mordaça
Tempo onde o sangue não tem rasto
Tempo da ameaça.
Have an inch of the courage, strength, resilience and moral fiber of an Ukrainian.
I saw it eye to eye. I was priviliged. And I could not bring myself to embrace fully the brigthness and spirit. It would take courage. It would take sacrifice. It would take pain and sorrow. But it would have been magic.
I was wrong from the beginning. I dared to say a despicable thing. Strong outside, fragile inside. How could I have written such non-sense. There is no fragility inside. Maybe there are moments of weakness, maybe there is pain, maybe there is sorrow.
But fragile? Never. You are the strongest person I have ever met.
I wish I had never been weak, so I could be strong for you whenever you need.
I can't close my eyes. Evil cannot prevail. I'll pray that you are safe. I'll pray that yours are safe. I'll pray the nightmare is no more.
I am praying.
Can I do, should I do?
The weight on my chest does not leave, torn with all the news and, mostly, the thought of how much you are suffering.
Bloody silence, unbearable silence I commit to.
Sickened by the news.
But the reason I'm shaking is not just the invasion. I am angry at myself. For sitting here, comfortably, while you're suffering incommensurable more.
And I relinquished my duty to be with you.
And they're handing down my sentence now
And I know what I must do
Another mile of silence while I'm
Coming back to you
Even in your arms I know
I'll never get it right
And all I've said was just instead of
Coming back to you
All these news are just unbearable.
My impotence, my absence, my status quo, my resignation, make me want to puke.
There will be a tomorrow for sure. Hope is not a tomorrow of continuous fear, hate, and absence.
it wasn't only words.
I feel like the international community giving an half hearted support. Words and sanctions and messages, but standing shoulder to shoulder with you, that i do not make happen.
We would stand shoulder to shoulder, face to face, locked in my arms. That would be eponym of hope, rather than useless words.
Stupid. Imbecile. That's who you are Daniel.
Strong, unbreakable spirit. I can only phantom what that is, but I always saw it in you.
Had I an ounce of your integrity, a shade of your resilience, a snippet of your determination, I would be someone better.
I was afraid living in war. I think I never truly realised you meant it when you said me not to be afraid.
I am so afraid, I can't even be brave enough to type I miss you. God, do I miss you.
я так тебе люблю.
And can't get myself to open the door. I look to the side, remember you sat right there.
Just want to fill the tank, and start driving. I know the way. ~20h drive. Stop once or twice for Gas.
It could be done. But I also can't get myself to turn the key. I look to the side, remember you sat right there.
This would be the moment for an embrace. For Love, so we could forget the war.
I open the door. And walk to the sofa. I look above, remember you sat right there. And I felt whole.
Just a structured hello. "I promised I would not say anything, but I am worried." "I hope all is well with yours." "I pray everyday everything is well with you."
No matter time and space in between, I will always miss you, and silently, absurdly, uselessly, think of you.
And then I stare at the empty vehicles of communication, and hold my breath.
Lord, Lord, my prayer flies like a word on a wing
My prayer flies like a word on a wing
Does my prayer fit in with your scheme of things?
And the smile is so warm, the eyes so piercing, I just can't sleep.
Suddenly, again, realize: it is real, but all I see is a picture.
And I open my eyes again, open the phone, and look once more. The smile, the eyes.
And I envy the photographer who not only saw you through the lenses, but felt your scent, heard your softness, maybe even gave a handshake.
And try to close my eyes again.
.... how come a simple grainy picture sweeps me out of my feet?
Even if there is nothing but shadows, I worry.
there is no greater misfortune in the world than the loss of reason
"The mind is less debated than the existence of soul. The mind seems to be finite, with a beginning, a middle and an end, and then it leaves ghosts and residue. The mind is not in your brain; it’s reported by your brain, so the notion is that it’s not actually your brain, but it’s not your soul or your so-called art either."