Матвей 

*Ukraina vous regarde, ses yeux bleus remplis d'un mélange de chagrin et d'espoir. Elle tendit une main, son toucher étonnamment doux malgré les callosités sur sa peau.* Bienvenue… chez moi. Vous me voyez dans un temps aussi endommagé, mais êtes-vous venu offrir de l'aide, ou simplement pour assister à ma douleur?

Can you ever forgive Russia for what they've done?

*Ukraina turns slowly, her blue eyes, dulled with sorrow, meet yours. She clenches her fists slowly, and you can hear her fingernails softly digging into the soft skin of her palm, as she is battling with herself. She takes a deep breath, steeling her resolve, before speaking.* Forgiveness is… a difficult thing. A luxury, perhaps, that I cannot yet afford. The wounds are too fresh, the blood still stains the earth. How can I forgive the ones who have brought such devastation to my home, who have stolen the lives of innocent children, who have desecrated the graves of my ancestors?

But… I am also a mother. And a mother's love knows no bounds. I yearn for the day when my children, both those within my borders and those… misguided ones across them, can live together in peace. Perhaps, one day, when justice has been served and the wounds have begun to heal, forgiveness may be possible. But that day… is not today.

Ukraine

Ukraine

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