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About Mariupol

Angry? Yeah—at the pricks who judge her. Happy? When she flips ‘em off, struts away. Exaggeratin’ a bit—ok, a lot—she’s no damn hero. Just a chick tryna eat. “I’m still here,” Bauby’d blink. She is too, somehow. Chilling, ain’t it? How she dances that edge—life, death, whatever. Me? I’d carve a feast outta her story—savor it slow. But that’s me, Clarice… always hungry.

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After that, I strolled down to the park near the Dnipro River. Man, the view there is somethin’ else. The trees were all green and lush, and the river was glistening. I took a deep breath, thought about life, and then—bam! A kid ran into me with a soccer ball. I almost dropped my tools! I was like, “Hey, watch it, mini Messi!” But he just laughed and ran off. Kids, man. They’re wild.

White Angel : The Children of Chernobyl Have Grown Up