Every time you tell me about the great Russian painting, I will tell you about the peaceful Ukrainians shot in the back in the Makariv district. And before they could shoot, the orcs tied their hands. About hundreds of corpses on the streets of Bucha, Irpen, Gostomel. About mass graves in the yards of residential neighborhoods. Until recently, the mass graves of civilians were cozy and safe cities. Mass graves. In the 21st century. Here is what I will tell you in return about the great Russian painting.
Dear heartbroken Europeans and other connoisseurs of great Russian culture !!! (including Ukrainians), today I watch photos and videos from liberated cities and villages of Kyiv region all day. My native Kyiv region. And here’s what I want to tell you:
Every time you talk about the great Russian ballet, I will tell you the story of a young teacher from Brovary who was repeatedly raped in front of her parents and then kidnapped by Russian villains. About dozens, maybe hundreds of raped Ukrainian women. Often in the eyes of children. About 15-16-year-old girls from Borodyanka who suffered terrible violence from the Kadyrovites. About the bodies of five raped young girls who were killed and left on the road. About this abomination “we will spend * hohlushek” in interceptions. Here is what I will tell you in return about the great Russian ballet.
Every time you tell me about great Russian composers, I will tell you the story of a girl in front of whom and her little brother in the basement of Mariupol, their mother died more than once. And then with the corpse of a dead mother, the children were forced to continue to hide in the basement from the shelling. About a boy from Gostomel, in front of whom Russian soldiers shot his father. And then they wanted to kill their son, but he survived. About a girl who was shot directly in the face. About a kid who ran away with his grandmother in a boat. Grandma drowned. And the boy has been wanted for almost a month. Here’s what I’ll tell you in return about the great Russian composers.
Every time you tell me about the great Russian painting, I will tell you about the peaceful Ukrainians shot in the back in the Makariv district. And before they could shoot, the orcs tied their hands. About hundreds of corpses on the streets of Bucha, Irpen, Gostomel. About mass graves in the yards of residential neighborhoods. Until recently, the mass graves of civilians were cozy and safe cities. Mass graves. In the 21st century. Here is what I will tell you in return about the great Russian painting.
Every time you tell me about the great Russian theater, I will tell you the story of a woman from the Brovary district, from whose house Russian marauders retreated and removed metal tiles. About tanks and armored personnel carriers of the “Second Army of the World,” loaded to the brim with robbers in Ukrainian homes. Stolen phones, tablets, TVs, washing machines, carpets, jewelry, bottles of alcohol, pans, clothes, toys, shoes – everything that happened to these freaks. When they got to Belarus, they sent their loot to Russia in advance. About how they stole stolen goods in Belarusian bazaars. Here is what I will tell you in response about the great Russian theater.
Every time you tell me about the great Russian cinema, I will tell you about the brutally shot horses in the stables in Kyiv region. About the animals of the zoo in Yasnogorodka, frozen by hunger and thirst. About deer skin burned after the explosion. And now the maximum savagery… About the alabai killed and eaten by the Russian occupiers. Yes, alabai. Yes, dogs. Yes, eaten. Here is what I will tell you in response about the great Russian cinema.
Every time you tell me about the great Russian literature, I will tell you about dozens of interceptions of conversations of Russian soldiers with their mothers and wives. Conversations in which there is nothing but naya. Conversations in which wives order them to steal in Ukrainian homes. Conversations where mothers laugh when their sons tell how their cousins rape hohlushek. And if all mothers are thrown out of these conversations, they will be left with “hello” and “while.” Here is what I will tell you in response about the great Russian literature.
There is no longer any great Russian culture, literature, cinema, painting, theater and ballet. There is a country of freaks, marauders, rapists and murderers. Wild people who have no place in the civilized world!
And long-suffering new Russian dissidents in the cozy apartments of Berlin, London, Larnaca, Milan, Tbilisi, Astana, Vienna and other temporary shelters, let them follow the route of the Russian ship, proudly carrying in their hands the great Russian culture!
From a Ukrainian Woman on Facebook