Beginning on Thursday, August 27, all days blur into one long, endless air raid alarm. 13 air alarms a day, lasting 872 minutes. The next day—12 alarms, lasting 634 minutes. The next—10 alarms, lasting 644 minutes.
Russia sends drone after drone, forging an unbroken chain of threats. Explosions sound around-the-clock, becoming a constant of everyday life. It is as if bursts of life are trying to break through that constant blackness with their light.
And in a single night the losses exceed a year’s worth of sales. During air raid alarms state institutions close. Shopping malls, grocery stores, all closed.
No documents can be obtained from state institutions. No doctor’s appointments at public hospitals. Children don’t make it in time to class after the all-clear before the new alarm sounds, and they rush back to the shelter.
Meanwhile, in broad deadly daylight, a Russian drone attacks a university in the heart of Kyiv. 160 students make it in time to the sheltered safety, and casualties are avoided. The scale of this paralyzing tragedy is unfathomable. Russia is burning down warehouses around Kyiv.
One loss I heard of just today: works by a contemporary Ukrainian artist that were bound for Paris for his first solo exhibition. The reports say that when a post office facility was struck, about a third of the entire exhibition was destroyed. Throughout August, warehouses storing books belonging to Ukrainian publishers also came under Russian attack.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
