This is an automatically translated description

Without Choice. Pitma and love. Our will to perish. Our choice to kill. Fighting and loss. A common loss. Losses that we can no longer feel or feel. Corridors of the earth, which you recognise in Polish.

The poetry of Yarina Chornoguz is a unique leaf from the front, a leaf from the front line, where you will not find a description of the fighting or a list of withdrawn territories. It is about the pain of losing your dead brothers and sisters, about being at war here and now, about being informed and accepting your own choice to fight, about how the world will look like after all this pain that is tearing the middle. Sheets about how the defence of your presence in this world looks like.

These texts Yarina wrote during the last one and a half years of rotation on the front, a significant part of which fell on the full-scale war. "In this book," Yarina writes, "my memory of Skadovski and the sea coast of Kherson, Sevierodonetsk and Mariupol, the heights above Novoaidar, the road Bakhmut-Lisichansk and the villages on the other side of the Siverskiy Dintsy, the river that became the Ukrainian Stix. And all of them feel to me like another motherland, because they have been changed by our crocs inside and outside. Some of them are strong and defensive, most of them should be removed.