The undeсlared war in Kyiv hospital

If I were writing a diary I would surely review the 2d of September.

I didn't want to get up early in my first day off after 7 days at work. Lying till the edge of permitted sleep on a soft pillow I was deciding how important was a promise of a girl without medical education and no experience in medical help to come to Kyiv Main Military Hospital as a volunteer. A promise of mine. The decision to keep my word was argued thus: I couldn't do that in any other weekday — the time when the volunteers were the most required. I quickly had a cold shower — owing to the gas war with Russia we do not have hot water for nearly three months, — put on comfortable trousers (skirts and dresses aren't permitted for volunteers) and still felt doubts: shall I really devote my day off to seeing wounded guys and feeling their sufferings? I seemed to be ready. Although my car was low on fuel, I was too late to go to the gas-station. Another decision that each would make for himself, I thought: it was better to give up my fills a little than to make medical assistants wait or repeat the training. I really believed I would do something. For the first time in my life the Ukrainian hospital didn't ask for anything, as Ukrainians were bringing everything, the soldiers need: food, clothes, medicine, hygiene, household items etc. I didn't know what to buy and thought about muesli bars. Subsequently I distributed them to other volunteers as we were told not to spoil patients with sweets. And there we were: four young girls, who begged off the work for some hours or a day, two pensioners and some women of “no age”. The main rules: no conversations about war, no questions about their “stories”, no news on TV and always smiles. It took us for nearly five hours to bring us men everything they asked for, although all could have been done in an hour. We were newcomers and thus consulted at each point. Twice, there appeared possibilities to offer help but none was realized. Once I was surpassed, and on another occasion, the appeal appeared fake: the guy was too bad to walk with, even in wheelchairs. Nearly 20-year-old Andriy from the 4th chamber was stressed and tired of the hospital and his injures. His behaviour became a challenge for everyone around him - moving in his wheelchairs he would miss objects barely by millimetres and thereby furthering the risk of hurting his wounded leg. He didn't want to ask for anything ... even condensed milk, which he loved very much. His mother spent the last three months in the hospital with him. Angelina, the high-spirited elderly woman, came from the second chamber. She met there, a Cossack, as she called him, because of his traditional, though a little neglected, hair and a steady spirit. She brought him the electric kettle, which he had asked long for; trousers instead of shorts and changed his linens. The mattress was all stripped and bloody. I think it is not easy to imagine how many people slept on it. It's strange and bitter to watch so many guys and men, who lost their arms or legs, injured by fragments of bombs or contused in Military Hospital. I can't imagine how many fates this undeclared war has broken. They believe sincerely that have suffered for purpose. I wish we all remember this in future.

Kazakhs can't throw Nazarbaev off, because the war will begin

Yesterday I met a kazakh anchor. He said in Kazakhstan they're too afraid of Nazarbaev to protest, especially after their President had shot 2000 protesters. The main point for me was"We can't throw Nazarbaev off. It will lead to war". 

The Heroes don't die, the Internet says. The Heroes do, the heart cries.

I didn't know Temur in person. He was nor a friend, neither a mate of mine. But still I remember his appeal over the telepnone: “Take me off here, please. I can't be here any more.” That was the 27th of May, and Temur Iuldashev, the European champion in powerlifting from Ukraine, had already been captured for almost a month. Terrorists imprisoned him in the Ukrainian Security Service Office of Luhansk and he was the successful one to have “comfortable” conditions, food and even (!) the telephone. The reason was — the OSCE observers insisted on Temur's release. But the prisoner himself didn't believe in good will. “It will be a month of my being here tomorrow. Noone lives so long here. I am not afraid, but what do they want from me?” “They” really didn't present any conditions initially. And only after media frenzy started negotiations. But nor with Ukrainian authority, neither with OSCE. With Temur himself. The demand was of a coward kind: they wanted Temur not to fight with them any more. He fled from terrorists' prison in the middle of June. The number of people, captured in Luhansk Security Service Office, was not known for all the time. He knew, they changed people, exchanged for their separatists, seized by Ukrainian army, and the worst — put to the questions for the camera to let Russian people believe in horrors about mythological banderivci and Right Sector — the task they rarely managed with. Temur continued fighting. He couldn't act otherwise. He was a commander of battalion, titled by his name “Temur”. The 27th of August is the exactly the 5th month when all Ukraine heard about the commander Temur, because of his capture, and also the date, when hundreds of people can't believe, he is shot at Savur-Mohyla by terrorists' sniper. The Heroes don't die, the Internet says. The Heroes do, the heart cries.

http://nobody-s-fool.livejournal.com/176578.html

Консєрви проч! Українці ще й досі бояться сексу. через легенди комунізму про погрязшу в гріхах Европу, якій скоро через то настане піздєц. ці легенди ретельно прививалися нам нашими батьками і чимало ше прививатимуться такими вихованцями їхнім дітям. звідтам нині секс - лише проблєма: суцільна порнографія, заміна почуттів трахом, малолєтня проституція,ранні аборти і ті самі ВІл та інфекції. секс - це погано, сказав комунізм.
пора подумати і про культуру сексу. тіло ж - її фундамент і інснтрумент. у ньому все прекрасне.
червоніймо на здоровля!