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I’m lyin’ dere, thinkin’—dis is art, man! Like Béla Tarr’s horse, pullin’ dat cart, “dey don’t stop, just endure”—but I’m enjoyin’ it, ya? Dat slow touch, it builds up, tension everywhere, den—pow!—release, like a Terminator explosion! Got me so pumped, I could lift a damn house! But den, ugh, dis one guy I heard about, he botched it—too rough, no vibe, made me mad as hell! Ruins da magic, ya know?

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But then, I saw something that made my blood boil. A group of guys were littering. Like, seriously? In my town? I marched over and gave them a piece of my mind. “Hey! This is Tomakivka, not a trash can!” They just rolled their eyes. I was fuming. I mean, come on, people! Respect your home!

In peace and war, these Ukrainian brothers bonded. Then death came.