Chronicles of Surrealism

I have noticed the longer I stay silent, the harder it is to get back to posting. It's like surfing. In the midst of an unstable ocean of emotions, you must catch a wave. Also, I must wear a bandage (or immobilizer) on the right wrist. This is another reason why I started this post on Friday and finish today.

Nevertheless, the very fact that I'm saying Hello to you is a sign that I'm alive, which is not so little.

Summertime... Sun shines bright, and life is in full swing. The second summer of a big war. And it looks as if our life, I mean Ukrainians living in Ukraine, is stuck somewhere in between.

It's vacation time. After the dam on the Dnieper was blown up, the beaches on the Black Sea coast were closed. But people still come, because rest is very necessary. Therefore, the local authorities of Odesa recently placed special anti-mine nets in the sea at a certain distance from the shore. Earlier ... in the summer ... nets against mosquitoes or flies. And now against mines. And behind them in the sea are Russian ships with missiles ready for launch.

And at this time, newspapers are published in Serbia with headlines about how Ukraine attacked Russia. And in Russia itself, students are told in history lessons that Ukraine is an ultra-fascist state. It's so absurd that it's still hard to believe sometimes.

Surrealism is characterized by liberation from the predominance of rational thinking. As a direction of art, it arose after the First World War in France among the Dadaists, whose art expressed the absurdity of the world, disillusionment with the values and ideals that prevailed before the First World War, but could not avert it and even contributed to it to a certain extent. Sounds very familiar.

I have been living in concentrated surrealism for 18 months now.

Regarding art. To brighten up my life, I visited an art exhibition "100 unknown works of Maria Prymachenko". She painted in a naive art style but yet her art is a mixture of life and rich imagination. Sometimes it seems like a child's imagination... The exhibition featured many works dedicated to World War II and the Chornobyl tragedy. Naive, but very deep.

I thought I was used to living like this. Many of us also did. Not to plan, not to dream, and to cherish this very moment in which I am. A brief moment of balance.

Until one day ... My usual morning coffee is interrupted by a loud kaboom, somewhere very close. My heart freezes, and the bolt of cold goes through my body like a current. And then another one. That's it. Enough to shatter my illusion of life. The pink and blue filter switches to black and gray. I understand that death stands next to life, holding hands.

A big ocean wave of everything that I tried not to think about, that I tried not to notice. It is covering me, and I recall the recent news about acquaintances and friends, injured but alive. I remember two girls from Zaporizhzhia who sang in the street to support the townspeople after the Russian shelling. And an hour later another rocket killed them. An endless series of fires, destruction, and dead bodies. All the pent-up pain, anger, and injustice instantly erase all my invented reasons for joy, all the good things that happened to me.

Good things - what are they? That evening, my hubby and I met with friends whom we had not seen for a long time, for years already. To be honest, we met now because Nick had a need for his service in AF related to their business. But still, it was nice to see old friends and know all the updates.

What else is good? My daughter's wedding is supposed to be a good thing. Yes, it is, but... I need proper attire - a dress, and shoes. I spent 4 days searching and trying on. I experienced incredible heat, when standing in a traffic jam, the thermometer of my car showed +39. It is a very unpleasant experience to drive in such heat.

So, on the 4th day of searches, I was still without a dress. If it had been someone other than my daughter, I would probably have declined the invitation. I don't want to let her down, but on the other hand, I'm not ready to pay that money for a dress, a piece of fabric, because something I even liked wasn't cheap. But the worst thing is that I lost my favorite ring in some of the fitting rooms. I couldn't even remember which stores I was in....

I shared my misfortunes with an acquaintance. To my surprise, she offered me an option that was perfect for me at the moment - embroidered dress! My old dream never comes true because it is such a thing you never have spare money for. Something that will show not the thickness of my wallet, but my identity. And what I will definitely want to wear many times. This is how I became the owner of the largest collection of photos of embroidered dresses.😂

Eventually, I founded it, my dress. It was a huge relief! Here is it:

And in a few days Nick persuaded me that I still can return to the area I were shopping and ask about my ring. I was certain only about the last store I visited but what have I got to lose? When I entered the shop the saleswoman gave me a big smile, and before I could ask anything, she said, "Yes! I've been waiting for you all week." ❤️ This lady made my day. Thanks the Lord for the good people!

It remains to find 6 bottles of white semi-dry or semi-sweet wine preferably with a not-too-low supply temperature (I know and I don't approve of it either, but it's not my choice), and I personally am ready for the celebrating.

Who collects clothes for wounded soldiers in the hospital? I do. Who buys the dress and the wine? Also me. Surrealism as it is.

A few days ago Nat and her hubby moved from my mom's flat. They want to live separately. They have been looking for an apartment for rent for several months. This is the western part of Ukraine, and the real estate market there is crazy. In a small city with 300,000 people, rent prices are the same as here in the capital. And at the same time, the apartments the tenant is located as soon as the ad is published. Well, my children are finally lucky. They found a very good apartment. I am happy for them.

Also today my mother called and told me the news. Good and very sad in the same time. She sold our house in the village. None of us lived there permanently, and my home is now here. But it's as if I lost something very dear and special. It's like ... a part of me became homeless. Still it is good that someone will take care of the house and the garden, and it will not turn more and more abandoned. Although, I will never know it.