Our working day starts every day from seven o'clock in the morning. Especially yet I didn't know [about the beginning of a full-scale invasion]. Somehow it turned out that in the morning I didn't turn anything on the TV. When I came to work, it had already started here.

We did not accept what the TV said. It was really perceived when a truck without a trailer jumped in full steam. The pale driver with non-human eyes jumped out of the car and said: "Fuel me quickly. I just escaped death".

It happened that they were standing on the border. And when they missed them (our side), they went to the neutral strip, then tanks went to them. They dropped the trailers, ran back and started shooting at them.

About an hour from the eighth, we started a full-scale ‒ flow from Kyiv went into two rows without ceasing. He called all four shifts at our gas station. We didn't have time to just fill up the car. And tears, and screams, and crying, and aggression. Somehow people are scared. And that's when we realized that it really started.

The day ended with us (I don't even know) when the last customer ended. On February 24, we sold fuel for almost two weeks. If on February 27, 28, the return flow to Kyiv has already gone.

​From each entrance where I live, we gathered a couple of people: let's distribute night shifts. They will jump in, throw grenades and what will happen? At least we can warn people.

When communication with my Kyiv management was cut off, around the 1st, cash registers at all gas stations that were still working were blocked. When the cash register was no longer working, we had leftovers, then we helped with gasoline and diesel (there was no more gas). Many soldiers came. Woman baked pies, guys drop in ‒ coffee that was in the device, and pies, coffee and pies, coffee and pies.

When I see from the 1st that constant shelling flies over our heads, planes, the situation is very dangerous. I sent all my own. He himself stayed at the gas station ‒ guarded.

There was no gas, no light at moments. Desperate our electricians, thank you very much. When he falls, he shoots, as soon as he arrives, and after fifteen minutes the wires are tied. Well done.

There were problems with bread. My wife is like a hamster, if there is no bag of flour, a bag of sugar, then everything is over with us, we are on hunger strike. Well, literally, there was no bread for a week, and our boys broke through, I don't know how, to Brovarsky district for bread. It was Natasha and Vitya.

We had no air alarms. We ran so hundred meters with my build that the Olympic record could be set.

I hear the exits have gone here, they have gone through us. Don't hail. Ruslan ran and ran these hundred meters, falling under the first garage. I see something will happen from the side of Chernihiv, they are flying through us. I fall on him, pressed him. For five minutes, the planes flew low and the sound is nasty. They rose up, shook off, smoked, went on to watch.

Oh, light masking... Sometimes it lights up there, sometimes it lights up there, sometimes it came at the gate and conceded ‒ hide quickly. Moped square describes. Get ready ‒ three minutes and go shelling. Most likely Russian. As such flies by, they hid under a tree.

Then people realized that these are not jokes. People have already started observing light masking.

Brighter memories that are less vivid. Oh, they won't go anywhere. No moment. Then it was already beginning to dawn. So we no longer went on duty and here the plane descends. Well, we quickly jumped in, we are waiting for what will happen. A bomb drops and falls after about two seconds. Well, yes, we jumped outside and look outside Kyiv, black smoke rises.

By the time we jumped into the car, we arrived. Well, the boys ran around there, neighbors. There, two houses were damaged and a third, unfortunately, with the victim. Just a bomb fell in the yard. Mother is 90 years old and son Petro. He was probably 60 years old. They slept in the same bedroom. It was this bedroom that overlooked the epicenter of the explosion. As a result of the blast wave, the ceiling collapses and presses his son to death. The mother survived, the piece of plywood folded so that she seemed to remain in the shelter.

This is such a situation. A woman who saw both that war and that war. She survived that war, and this war took her son. There are many such moments.

I just imagine that it was a month in our country (well, a little more than a month). And like these people, where it goes for two years, more than ten years. Hard and painful.

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