June 26 - July 1, 2023. Days 486-494 of war.
This week's conversations were circling some domestic issues - what to cook when the weather is so hot and how to fix some things - like my painting pants, my backpack's pockets, or Mom's new accessory - a cane that was gifted to her by a new friend - another refugee from Ukraine who befriended my parents on the street.
Both my parents got new glasses (we are very grateful to the people who assisted in the process!) I drew them with the new eyewear on the first day of July:)
My parents told me about a poem by one of the russian-American poet - Nobel Laureate Joseph Brodsky. I am more familiar with his works in russian than in English, and this poem was written in russian. I never heard or read it and, apparently, it never was published - however, there are video recordings of Brodsky reading it. And here is an article about it in The New Yorker. It is written on the Independence of Ukraine and is filled with anger, accusations, and an ugly-phrased statement that in the end Ukraine "will return". It brought many layers of feelings and thinking and we spoke about it for some time - until it became obvious that it is too painful for all. There is no simple way to convey all the layers - so I will not.
Mom says: "I miss my library. But this missing is not helpful. Let me tell you about new blue flowers that just started blooming next door".
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