It’s my day 11 reporting from Crimea.  By now I have completely lost touch with inland reality.  Are there any new art shows? Movie premiers? Are people still walking down Kreschatik?  What kind of music are they listening to in Kiev?

I’m living my life by counting phone calls from military bases, long car rides, short conversations with colleagues about whats, wheres, and whens.

When I hear sounds of music I used to like, it seems like it’s coming from some parallel universe. I do not communicate to most of my old friends, they are either scared to talk to me, or do not share my beliefs.

I’ve learned to instantly determine which of my phone conversations are being taped. But I’m not hiding anyway. I’m just a journalist, doing my job. Try to stop me now! I have simply accepted the idea that at any moment I might be crammed into a car, taken away, and severely beaten up. Now I feel no fear, but responsibility.

It’s so weird. It seemed like my country has finally come to its senses, but suddenly some schizophrenic maniac turns everything upside down, not giving a damn about people or international community. He thinks he can shut up or gag anybody. I wish I could tell him to his face, that no gag would shut up inner freedom, that no abuse, no blackmail, no bribe would stop people with dignity and responsibility for their actions.

Today I spoke with the commanding officers of Ukrainian battleships, I saw these men of steel core of dignity and self-respect with my own eyes.  They are my role-models, but not some failed Napoleon, who is raping his own people.

p.s. I’ll post my big report on Bakhchysarai later today.


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