Thread by @Hromadske

Mariupol today. We publish the full text by Nadia Sukhorukova.

I go outside in between the bombings. I need to walk the dog. She's whining, shivering, and hiding behind my legs. I want to sleep all the time. My yard, surrounded by high-rise buildings, is silent and dead. 1/13

I'm not afraid to look around anymore. In front of me, the entrance to building #105 is burning down. The flames already devoured five floors and are slowly chewing the sixth. The fire in the room burns as delicately as in a fireplace. 2/13

Black charred windows are windowless. Curtains torn by the fire fall out of them like tongues. Calm and doomed I look at it. I am sure I will die soon. It is a matter of a few days. In this city, everyone is constantly waiting for death. I just want it not to be too scary. 3/13

Three days ago, a friend of my older nephew came to us and told us that there was a direct hit in the fire department. Rescuers died. One woman got her arm, leg, and head torn off. I dream that my body parts will remain in place, even after the aerial bomb explosion. 4/13

I don't know why, but I think it's important.Although, they won't bury during hostilities. That's what the police told us when we asked what to do with our friend's dead grandmother. They advised to put her on the balcony. I wonder how many balconies have dead bodies on them?5/13

Our home on Mira Avenue is the only one without direct hits. It was hit twice by a shell, in some apartments windows were blown out, but it did not suffer much compared to other homes.

The whole yard is covered with layers of ash, glass, plastic, and metal fragments. 6/13

I try not to look at the iron thing that flew into the playground. I think it's a rocket, or maybe a land mine. I don't care, it's just unpleasant. I see someone's face in the third-floor window, and I shudder. It turns out that I am afraid of living people. 7/13

My dog starts howling, and I realize that they're going to shoot again. I am standing outside in the daytime and a cemetery silence all around me. There are no cars, no voices, no children, no grandmothers on the benches. Even the wind is dead. 8/13

A few people are here, though. They lie on the side of the house and in the parking lot, covered with their outer clothing. I don't want to look at them. I'm afraid I'll see someone I know. 9/13

All life in my town is smoldering in basements right now. It's like a candle in our shelter. Putting it out is so easy. Any vibration or breeze and the darkness will fall. I try to cry, but I can not. I feel sorry for myself, my family, my husband, my neighbors, my friends. 10/13

I go back to the basement and listen to the ugly scraping of iron. It's been two weeks, and I don't believe that there was ever another life. 11/13

There are still people in the basement in Mariupol. It's getting harder for them to survive by the day. No water, no food, no light, they can't go outside. The people of Mariupol must live. Help them. Spread the word. Let everyone know that civilians continue to be killed. 12/13

Original text on Facebook t.ly/F51H

Mariupol art organization Platform Tu is raising funds for one-time financial assistance to victims of the Russian blockade of the city.

Funds can be transferred via PayPal: [e-mail]

Their post: facebook.com/tumariupol/pho…