At 5 o'clock, the director called the man and said that it had started. And it was a gesture. They started calling their parents, and their mother was in Horodna. They began to glue the windows with tape. They watched the neighbors leave. We glue, and the neighbors gather, pack, go. We weren't going anywhere. It will all end, they thought they would go away, turn around.

On the 24th, we hadn't gone down to the basement yet. I quickly started turning on the dishwasher so that the dishes were clean, collecting water. Although I didn't want to eat anymore, we need to have a spare. On the 25th, we went down to the basement for the first time, when it had already begun to sharah normally. No sedatives helped.

I love stocks. I always have them. It's just starting to end, we went to the store, we flirted again. During the invasion, even bread was not bought. Everything that was at home, that's how they lived, as well as pills.

 We weren't going to leave, we thought it would take a lot of money. You need to know where to go. And here at home, in the cellar there are potatoes, twists, and pasta. I just wanted to make a dome so that nothing would fly here, so that the orcs would all breathe out. But still, they left later, when there was already a region. On the 28th, we were fired upon. On the 1st, when we had no communications, the best man called and said that he had been told that the orcs were about to enter Kiinka. And as we were in the basement in household robes, in jackets, in dutikas, we were going to evacuate like this.

Standing on the street, I remembered that I had such a hefty brew, where I put a pot, a bowl, three spoons, all the pasta. I took two eggplants of water in ahapochka. They left for Chernihiv at the factory where the man worked. We lived there in a workshop in the basement.

We arrived, we are standing, there is nothing to eat, there is no food for the dog. That we have those two packs of pasta. The next day we got together, went back to Kyivka. They collected things, pots, dishes, because we had godfathers and children with us. The youngest child was four months old.

The factory had water suspended, there is light, there is water. Let it be technical, but you can even wash it when there was no shelling at times. When the light was cut at the factory, we went home, took a taganok, a gas cylinder and cooked it already on the cylinder.

There was still a small electric oven at home, we took it with us. They even had to cook something when it was light. The child, Karina, has a birthday on March 12. And I made her a cake while she slept. The best man approached me the day before and said: "What is needed for you to bake a cake for a child? We'll get." I say: "Everything is". They drank a seagull, cut a cake, put out candles. Well like candles ‒ matches.

 On March 18, our relatives left, and we decided to stay as a family. We washed the whole shop, all the toilets. We had such a clean everything. In fact, when she finished washing, such specific shelling began. There was a flight to a nearby factory and everything around was in smoke, the basement also smelled of smoke. The lights were turned off, that was all. We realized that we had to go.

We barely waited for the end of the curfew. The child was not awakened until the last, until she heard that a man was leaving. The car was far away at the factory, and we didn't know if it was alive. We ducked, drove off. They left. Then she drove around Chernihiv for the first time, and there is a sign: everything is lying down, the lines are torn, the pillars are lying. In the month that was, I did not pray so much for the rest of my life. Especially when we were driving on the road of life.

We agreed with my husband. He likes everything to be clear with me. They said there at six, so we have to leave at six. And I have some sense, I told him: "Don't think they're shouting at me, they'll push me. We will leave when we need to". They were a little late, but they were driving and there was no shelling on the way.

The man opened the car window. The village, some wooden fence unpainted and sparrows. I never thought they were so cool. They are alive, chirping, on the fence, tick-tick-tick, they remember. And we, as the people from the basement, who almost lived there for a month, did not see this nature. They came to Kyiv, and people are walking there. Young people hold hands and walk. And we are frightened, wild, in all these robes, searched.

They left on March 20, returned on April 20. It's my birthday on April 24. When I was still sitting in the basement, I said that I would celebrate my birthday and bake Easter at home. That's how it turned out.

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