Black and White War

The stars in the sky never stop shining, either, says Mrs. Olena with circles under her eyes, and so you go to the market for smoked fish like any other morning. And the trains will continue to run until judgment day and the conductors will hand out tea and wish the people a pleasant journey regardless of whether they’re heading for the front or trying to escape. Children will play on bombed-out playgrounds as enthusiastically as they did before and the band that you’ve spent years hoping to see will keep playing until the sirens sound, and then you again wander the unlit city, looking out of the corner of your eye to see if the stars are falling on your head. People have to believe in a little bit of luck, since even on this unassuming front every inch of life is at stake, and once it’s gone it’s not coming back. So you silently say: Never before could one see the stars so clearly over Kyiv. And if the electricity comes on at three in the morning, Mrs. Olena with circles under her eyes turns on her ancient PC and does the accounting, because what if there’s another blackout during the day. Clara pacta, boni amici. And besides, she adds, nobody should use the war as an excuse.