The 11th Story

11

The photo today is of the very talented Lynton Parmar Helmsley. A hugely impressive artist creating pictures with great nostalgia. He was painting live today in the Staithes gallery so a pleasure to meet him.

Below is the text I had prepared for my 11th year in numbers Blipfoto yesterday. Regulars will know I like to celebrate a milestone with a story but yesterday didn’t feel appropriate to share it.

So today here is my 11th year blip story. It’s poignant & highly relevant to our now.

Before I share it can I just say that Blip & you rock. Thank you for your care for my journal. It is a special place & I am always thrilled to hear from any of you. So, here goes:


‘Do you think about her when you close your eyes?’

Mykola let the luxury of these words drift through his head.

‘I do,’ he replied, slowly, the warmth of her touching him for a blissful moment.

Krystiyan was quiet now. He’d mentioned ‘her’ and knew that his friend would be lost in a precious moment of a dream that for now was far away.

A welcoming silence had also settled around them, the darkness before dawn feeling like a thick winters coat falling around their cold and aching bodies.

‘Do you know what I miss the most?’ said Mykola, breaking the reverie.

‘I miss the promise of tomorrow. You know, that thing that no matter how great or crap today was, that tomorrow could be better.’

‘обіцянка завтрашнього дня,’ Krystiyan repeated.

A minute passed, the trickling of time with seconds flowing down the river of life.

‘And what do you miss the most? asked Mykola.

Krystiyan’s words came easy.

‘I miss Larva’s smile, that look that lit up a room. I miss leaning into my children’s hair, taking in the smell of them and feeling their little bones in my hands. I miss walking down my street and saying hello to my neighbours. I miss my work, the mending of cars and getting oil and grime all over my hands. I miss the walk home at night, the day leaving me as I walk back to her and the knowledge that when I walk through that door she will find me and hold me just to say that I am safe…’

They wait. These memories like an oasis to the man stuck in a desert.

‘And yet I am not safe. We are not safe. Christ, what has become of us Mykola?’

They lie in a trench looking out over the Seversky Donets River, a natural barrier between them and the seemingly countless Russians who have come to invade their land. They are tired and they desperately need sleep, a week of sleep. A whole range of emotions and thoughts continue to ascend their senses yet one stands and drives them on through the blur of their new found lives. It is that of anger. How dare the Russian people support their monster of Putin and let him bring this devastation to their neighbours. It is an anger that burns so bright that Mykola and Krystiyan will fight to their death to protect their freedom. And they will die. In 11 days from this conversation a shell will be fired with their name on it. It will leave a Russian BM-21 Grad self propelled multiple rocket launcher and fly through the sky at 770 metres per second. The rocket that will hit them is 9 feet and 5 inches long and it will grip to its lightning quick flight by relying on its spin tail fins. When it lands and explodes it will cause utter devastation.

The lights that these two brave Ukrainian men carry in their hearts will be immediately extinguished. Such is the cost and the horror of war.


This is the reality of Ukrainian’s right now as shocking acts are carried out on a nation that asked to live in freedom.

I dedicate my 11th year blip to the life and the freedoms the Ukrainian people deserve. May God grant them delivery from the tyranny of the Russian invaders.

A X