Olga and Sasha are two Ukrainian sisters. The first is 34 years old and is a wine merchant in Paris, where she has lived for seven years. The second, aged 33, lives in kyiv with her parents and grandmother. The two sisters have accepted, since the beginning of the conflict, to keep their logbook to M. This week, Olga awaits with impatience tinged with anguish the visit of her sister, who has learned of the terrible death of a friend in the bombardment of a building in the capital.
Tuesday, October 18
Olga: After yesterday’s Russian attack, all day I feel out of place. I fidget. I’m thinking. Drones kill Ukrainian civilians. Iranian drones. I wonder how the Iranian regime is different from the Russian? Wikipedia says: “Fascism is defined as a reaction to the values of democratic humanism…” These two regimes are “fascists”, I affirm it without hesitation. Sasha is there, she lives this horror, I want to be with her and take her in my arms. To tell him that everything is fine. But all is not well.
Sasha: The nightmare of yesterday morning turned into a state of shock. After the attack ended, explosions, sounds of automatic rifles, vibrations throughout my apartment, with Dmytro [son compagnon] and the dog, we went for a walk without speaking. There was sun. We met friends in the same condition. We asked each other: “Are you surviving well? » In Kyiv city center [Kiev, en ukrainien], an old building was destroyed. A pregnant woman died with her husband and even their cat. I woke up this morning with a feeling of insecurity and terror clinging to my skin. At 9 a.m., I am in front of my computer, I open Zoom to give my first lesson, I take a look at the blue sky and, suddenly, I hear a shrill whistle, I see the missile pass in the frame of my window. I connect, I say hello to my student. I have no emotions, no reaction. This missile fell on a power station in the suburbs of Kyiv, the left bank has almost no electricity.
In the afternoon, I learn that the woman killed yesterday in the destroyed building in the city center is my girlfriend Vika. She was six months pregnant. With her husband, they were found entwined. And always these thoughts… it could have been my building, my mother’s, my father’s. I am contacting the people who are taking care of Vika’s funeral to find out how I can help and support her family. She was a wine merchant and sommelier. I saw her at the Wine Festival and at her cellar. The last time was for the bachelor party of my friend who got married this summer, we had organized a tasting. I am totally devastated.
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