Caught the craziest disassociation (or whatever it's called) yesterday sitting by the sea listening to music, watching people walking, fishing, children playing... And all I could think was "There is war in this city, missiles fly at us from this sea over here." It's like one eye sees the picture of tranquility, peace, and beauty, of what this place was meant to be, of what it used to be, of what it would be, and the other eye sees the war, the cruelty, the hatred, the fear, the destruction, the loss. And these two pictures exist simultaneously in your inner eye, only they don't work together, they don't merge into one, your brain rebels like there is some real-life glitch. And instead of feeling peaceful and hopeful and restful like what I imagine this musician is trying to do, I just feel angry. Because this is unfair, it's unfair that there is war in this city, that missiles fly at us from this sea. We were meant to be THIS. This piano by the sea, the families on a walk on a Friday night. This is all we ever wanted from life, just walk by the sea, make music and art and other pretty things. And then someone saw it and decided they wanted to take it, and they've been trying to take it by tricks or by force, and when we didn't want to let it go, they decided to destroy it, and then take the ruins. So I have to live my life hiding in hallways and basements, working only to turn my salary into donations for the army, spending my free time volunteering and protesting. All instead of THIS. Instead of music by the sea. And it is extremely, extremely unfair.
The musician is Ihor Yanchuk.