“I can leave my house to go outside during some breaks between bombing. My dog needs to be taken for a walk. It is always whining, shivering and tries to hide behind my legs.
I want to sleep all the time. My yard, surrounded by multi storey houses, is silent and dead. I am not afraid to look around anymore.
I see the entrance of house number 105 being burnt. The flame has destroyed five floors and slowly devours the sixth one. I see the fire being calm like in the fireplace.
I know for sure that I am going to die soon. It’s just a matter of a few days.
In this city people know that death is unavoidable and they are waiting for their time to die. I just hope it won’t be so scary.


Three days ago, my elder nephew’s friend visited us and told us that the missile struck the fire brigade directly. No fire-fighters survived. One woman had her hand, leg and head torn off. I just hope my body parts won’t be torn off even after aircraft bomb explosion. 


I don’t know why but for me it’s very important. Although, from another hand, nobody will bury people during the war. Actually, that was what police officers told us being asked what to do with our acquaintance’s granny who was dead. They advised to put her body on the balcony. I wonder how many corpses are placed on the balconies?


Our house, which is located on Mira Avenue, is the only one which hasn’t been struck directly. It was hit twice tangentially, some flats had glass broken, but in general it was lucky compared to the rest of the houses.
The whole yard is covered with some layers of ash, glass, plastic and metal fragments. I try not to look at the iron rocket that hit the playground. I think it’s a missile or it might be a landmine. Actually, I don’t care, it makes me sad. I see somebody’s face in the window of the third floor and I feel shivers down my spine. It turns out that I am afraid of living people.


My dog starts howling and I understand that the bombing is going to begin. I am standing in the daytime outside and there is dead silence around. No cars, no voices, no children, no old women on the benches. Even the wind has died. There are some people anyway. They are lying next to the house, on the parking lot covered with some clothes. I don’t want to look at them. I was really scared to recognize somebody among them.


Life is going on in the underground cellars. It looks like the candle in our section. To put it out is a piece of cake. Any light vibration or wind and there is darkness. I want to cry but I can’t. I feel sorry for myself, my relatives, my husband, my neighbors, my friends. I come back to the cellar and hear that awful metal rattle. Two weeks passed and I can hardly imagine that I had had another life. 
There are still people in the underground cellars. Every day makes their life harder and harder. They have no water, no food, no electricity. They can’t even go outside due to constant bombing. Mariupol residents must survive and live. Help them. Tell the world about it. Let everybody know that civil residents are being killed.”
Ukraine. Mariupol.
March 2022.
Nadezhda Sukhorukova
Everybody who justifies this war is a bastard.