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When My Country Invaded Ukraine, I Faced a Choice: Give Me Propaganda or Give Me Death
When Russia went to war, I faced a choice: Flee to a world where the truth might kill me—or seek peace in censored oblivion.
To pay the rent, I sold online all my belongings from the Moscow apartment: a vintage armchair from Czechoslovakia, an antique Moroccan rug, books dotted with notes, a record player given to me by the love of my life. Then comes Male and Female —before the war it was a program about social issues, and now they discuss things like how to divide the state compensation for funeral expenses between the mother of a dead soldier and his father who left the family several years ago. I scrubbed the place through the first night, starting to cry like a child when I came across ordinary objects I remembered from peacetime: shower gel, a blender, a rabbit mask made out of cardboard.
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