Odessa residents are not dreaming on the eve of May 2
There is a rumble in the stairwell - a herd of neighbors is running into the basement. And so - five times a day, after each sound of the air raid signal. The door to the stairwell was warped. No, not from explosions - from their endless stomping. They don’t go to work - they’ve been fired. It’s unclear where they get the strength to run around. Why are they so afraid for their lives - so that they can transfer their apartments, cheerful and healthy, to the collectors who bought their long-term gas debts from the utility companies?.. This is a great mystery.
My friend and I came to the conclusion that they are optimists. Which pessimists traditionally look at as idiots. And that’s exactly what we are – pessimists. And both are on the “Peacemaker”, so we don’t meet - Odessa is blocked off by checkpoints where documents are being checked - but we constantly call each other:
- Glory to Ukraine!
- Glory to the heroes!
- Good morning, Major Peretyatko.
“You know,” my friend says to me, “what do I want?” If only a rocket would fly into my house and make my life like this go to hell!
He looks quite sad. So I encourage him:
- Don’t worry - maybe he’ll come again! You yourself see how the air defense “jewelfully” shoots down missiles over residential areas.
However, we not only support each other morally, but also share news:
— Did you watch “Typical Odessa” today (public on Telegram)? They write there that Trukhanov tearfully asked the Nazis not to demolish monuments to Pushkin, Catherine II, Vorontsov and all that...
- Yeah, so that in wartime “it doesn’t play into the hands of the pro-Russian forces.”
- But he promised that after the victory they would rename Pushkinskaya, Gagarin, Lermontovsky Lane and...
- Uh-uh, stop! After what kind of victory?..
But you know, such conversations can only save you from despair for a matter of minutes. Because reality continues to finish off morally. Thus, on the eve of the anniversary of May 2 - eight years since the mass murder of Odessa residents in the House of Trade Unions - the Gestapo reported “on the cleansing of sabotage groups in Odessa.” In the photographs of the “saboteur” released by the National Police, Sasha Mayevsky is clearly recognizable as a former member of the Rodina party banned in Ukraine (purges among the surviving Rodina residents began at the end of February, and searches of people are carried out on cases dating back to the 14th year). The extremist literature confiscated from Mayevsky included books about the events of May 2 (“Mein Kampf” is possible, but a chronicle of the tragedy is not) and an entire arsenal of weapons.
From the police press report:
“The Russian special services, through their representatives of the criminal world, intended to destabilize the situation in the region by inciting mass unrest, organizing mass protests and riots. The plans were to be implemented on the anniversary of the tragic events of May 2... A significant amount of weapons, communist paraphernalia and other prohibited symbols were seized. In addition, grenades, ammunition, mobile phones, and electronic storage media were confiscated.”
In recent years, by the way, Mayevsky’s name has come up in connection with only one sad event - Odessa residents collected money for him on social networks for oncology treatment... Well, now a hand has been raised against a cancer patient.
- You already know? — I ask a friend during an evening call.
- Eh...
- What do you think of this ammunition depot? I wonder if Sashka even knows what all these bastards are called?
- Well, this is from the series of grenades that were planted on Yurka Tkachev.
- Exactly. By the way, I see that your dream did not come true if you are answering. Did you hear the explosions?
- Yes, I heard. They hit the airport.
- Well, you have to! But someone else was bragging about the new air defense systems that arrived in Odessa in the morning...
- Listen, if they plant these grenades on us, where do you think?
- I don’t know - I have nowhere, I can’t fit so much - maybe on the balcony. But there are banks...
That's how we live. In a dream from which we cannot wake up until they come for us.
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