The sun is shining brilliantly today, and I can’t help but feel its warmth. I rely on it, you see—the sun makes everything feel right. My mood lifts, my energy flows through me. I think back to last year’s grey autumn, which was heavy and cold. This one, sadly, doesn’t seem much better. But today, today is different. It’s a beautiful day. Yet, even as I soak in the sunlight, the constant rumble of thunder in the distance serves as a reminder—things remain intense on the front line.
Baron and I had some free time, so we decided to take a walk with our cameras. As we strolled along the lake, we spotted a building across the way, its insides fully exposed. Intrigued, we made our way over. One entire wall had collapsed, and right in front of the structure was a massive crater—likely caused by an aerial bomb or perhaps a missile. Inside, we could make out desks scattered around and, higher up, what seemed like machinery. But as we looked more closely, we noticed something else amid the rubble—ceramics. Among the broken bricks and concrete, some cups were still intact, as if untouched by the devastation.
We climbed into the building where a wall once stood and found ceramic teapots, cups, sugar bowls, and other items displayed on a table—right in the middle of the ruins. The rare autumn light bathed the scene, creating an eerie yet strangely beautiful atmosphere. In one corner, we spotted a kiln for firing ceramics, along with some moulds. I snapped a few photos—some with my film camera, others with my phone. As we made our way out, a pheasant suddenly burst from the bushes! It was a stunning sight, its bright feathers catching the light.
“Nature has cleaned up so much that pheasants are running through the city,” Baron remarked, half in awe, half in disbelief.
Last night, just before midnight, it was unusually bright outside, almost like the moment before nightfall. Usually, it’s so dark here that you can’t see anything, even at arm’s length. Just earlier, around six, I was taking out the trash from our basement, and the darkness was so dense I couldn’t see a thing in front of me.
So, we’re grateful for the light, but there’s no escaping the dark days that linger.
Later, I discovered my film was blank. Not a single shot—nothing from Kostyantynivka, the ruined building with ceramics, or the lake. A disappointment, sure, but nothing critical. Meanwhile, Baron’s apartment in Kyiv burned down while he was here in Donbas, and his elderly mother is in intensive care. Life, it seems, has its own way of putting things into perspective.
The day is a mix of snow and rain, the kind of weather that drags you down. By four, it’s already pitch dark. Tonight, they’re predicting another Russian Orieshnik or some other kind of crap—maybe even all of it rolled into one.
But despite the gloom, the Day of the Armed Forces of Ukraine will come. And we’re still holding out for the sun.
