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Yana Dika.jpg
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Yana 25 y.o.

Before Russian aggression lived in Kharkiv...

My Story

War... I never want to wake up from the explosions again… 4:50 a.m. I open my eyes in a rented apartment in Kharkiv near the train station and hear them… explosions… Once, twice, three times… I didn't count.

I open Telegram, my acquaintances write, what can be heard all over the city, I understand what has just started…

I packed the most necessary things in my backpack and at six I went to the hospital to work. It was scary to come home and after work I went to a friend’s place. We lived there for five days and prayed that the shelling would not start in our part of the city. We did not want to leave Kharkiv, but when the bomb hit the administration building on the morning of March 1st, and in the evening a tank school and a five-story bazaar were bombed, we realized that we need to leave in the morning.

Then you sit between those two walls, and they sway like during an earthquake, because a Russian plane flies over you and you realize that tomorrow you will have to leave the city where you spent all your youth and the best student years… and you may never return…

The next day I only had 10 minutes to run home and pack. Then everything is like a fog… A train station, a million frightened people, tears, despair, fear, because the bombs explode about one kilometer away from you again, evacuation, a train that we could not physically get into, you run back to the car and under shells and explosions you leave the city at your own risk.

Instead of the usual 3 hours it took 10 hours to get to a friend’s place in the Poltava region. Exhale .. five days pass and you understand that you need to go farther, where you won’t be dashing aside from the door and where you won’t hear air raid sirens.

I decided to leave again and go the city of L'viv. Miraculously, I got on the evacuation train in Poltava, where I sat in a compartment for 18 hours with 9 other people. I finally made it to my friend in L'viv.

One could relax in this situation, but it does not work for me. I'm going abroad - my mom is there! Border checkpoints, coldness, snow, scared women and children, I'm alone. Then, a day on the road to Warsaw, Poland, a night on the train station’s floor, tears of despair, fear and a strong desire to return home.. But I try to hold on and continue… I found a volunteer who promised us housing in Germany. We go there, meet with a person... Again, tears on our faces…Unbelievable, how all those people help us here, how they sympathize. But in my head there is only one thought: I WANT TO GO BACK TO MY KHARKIV I WANT TO GO HOME

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