aiThis day started with news. My friend Zhenya's husband died at the front. This is the first thing I read in my feed. In the morning, when I was going to the cemetery to visit my husband's grave.

aiI was driving and the widow Marina was sitting next to me. We drove through the city full of life and called the volunteer Oleg, who transports the dead, with a request to help Zhenya take her husband out.

aiOver the past week, new terrible rows have appeared at the cemetery. Among them again there are many unknowns. And somehow it hurts especially for them. I untied two bouquets of chrysanthemums in order to spread at least one flower on a larger number of graves that had gravestones without a name, but there were still not enough for a tenth of them.

aiThe mother of one of the soldiers cried aloud. And not far from her, another mother sincerely rejoiced at the liberation of Kherson because now she would be able to perform an exhumation and take her son home from Krasnopil. Such is the joy...

aiWe had a meeting planned with six more widows in the city.

aiThey were very similar to each other because everyone is terribly thin - with such, you know, sharp cheekbones, thin noses and big eyes.

aiWe drank coffee and really wanted to support the guys. Somehow to console with talking. But they supported us. Having gone through the hell of the Mariupol battles and the torture of captivity, they have the strength and desire to be there for the families of the victims on the front.

aiOn the way home on the highway, a car honked at us. But we did not recognize it. My phone let me know. And we stopped by for coffee with the widow Lyuda.