love letters
a return to Kyiv, plus a light sprinkling of beautiful things
The first time I saw Valik’s house, it was undone. Not by the war, which had come to his tiny village of Svityl’nia in the first days of the invasion, but by the more mundane assaults of time and weather, which had worked their decay into the squat four-room structure. Valik hadn’t owned …
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