We talk about the invasion, about Putin. We try to reason through the unreasonable. We cannot. And I try to remember their plight every hour, every minute. Life plays out here and the real has become unreal. I go to the dentist and endure the drill and think of what they are enduring in the same moment. I feel the ache and discomfort in my bones and want to erase my inner and outer moanings at them. For my bodily injustices are but nothing in comparison.
He had made a 100 sandwiches for those fleeing the conflict. A 100 sandwiches.
We mustn’t forget the kindnesses. The kindnesses of strangers at such time. That is the gift in the horror. That. Let it bring solace.
