By OLENA PSHENYCHNA
Every time you mention the “great Russian ballet,” I’ll tell you the story of a woman, who was raped multiple times by the russian lowlifes in front of her parents.
About dozens, if not hundreds, raped Ukrainian women. Often in front of children. I’ll tell you about 15- and 16-year-old girls from Borodyanka, who experienced inexplicable violence from the kadyrovites.
About the bodies of five raped young women, slaughtered and left on the road. I’ll tell you about the disgusting “we’ll fuck the khohlushkas (derogative for Ukrainian women)” from the intercepted phone calls. This is what I’ll say in response to the “great russian ballet.”
Every time you mention the “great russian composers,” I’ll tell you the story of a girl whose mother had been slowly dying in front of her and her little brother in a basement in Mariupol.
They couldn’t leave and had to continue hiding from the shelling in a basement, now only with their dead mother’s body slowly degrading next to them. I’ll tell you about a teenage boy from Hostomel’ whose father had been shot dead in front of him. They tried to kill him too but failed.
About a girl who had been shot in the face. About a toddler who had to escape on a boat with his grandmother. His grandmother drowned.
He has been missing for a month, with no luck with the search operation. This is what I’ll say in response to the “great russian composers.”
Every time you mention the “great Russian art,” I’ll tell you the story of civilians, who were executed in the Makarovskyi district. With their hands tied, shot in the back. About hundreds of dead bodies on the streets of Bucha, Irpin, Hostomel’.
About the mass graves with the bodies of civilians, who, before the 24th of February, lived in peaceful cities. This is what I’ll say in response to the “great russian art.” Every time you mention the “great russian theatre,” I’ll tell you the story of a woman from the Brovary district in the Kyiv region, whose house was marauded by the russian soldiers – they even stole the roof tiles.
About the tanks and APCs of the “world’s second army,” full with goods stolen from Ukrainian homes.
Stolen phones, tablets, TVs, washing machines, carpets, jewelry, alcohol bottles, pans, clothes, toys, shoes – with basically everything those lowlifes stumbled upon. About their hasty need to send everything they stole to their families in Russia, once they reached the border with Belarus.
About selling their “loot” at the Belorussian markets. This is what I’ll say in response to the godforsaken “great russian theatre.” Every time you mention the “great russian cinema,”
I’ll tell you about horses slaughtered in the stables of the Kyiv region.
About starved and parched animals at a zoo in Yasnohorodka. About burned skin of a baby deer.
Now, brace yourselves: about a shepherd dog, killed and eaten by the russians. Yes, a dog. Yes, eaten. This is what I’ll say in response to the godforsaken “great russian cinema.”
Every time you mention the “great russian literature,” I’ll tell you about dozens intercepted calls between russian soldiers and their mothers or wives.
Conversations, that have not even an iota substance to them: only “fucks” and “shits.”
Conversations, in which the wives order what loot they want from the Ukrainian houses.
Conversations, in which mothers laugh, when their sweet boys tell them how their friends rape khohlushkas.
If you omit all the obscenities and cursing from those calls, you’ll only hear “hello” and “bye. This is what I’ll say in response to the “great russian literature.”
There’s no great russian culture, literature, cinema, art, theatre, and ballet. Not anymore.
There is a country of rapists, marauders, murderers and monsters.
Wild people, who do not fit in the paradigm of any civilized society.
Let all the russian dissidents, who are now hiding in apartments in Berlin, London, Larnaca, Milan, Tbilisi, Astana, Vienna or any other temporary refuge, go in the same direction, as the famous russian military ship.
With the great russian culture in their hands.
