“Are you worried?” I asked Liana. “I can’t be sad, I must be hopeful to support our president,” she exclaimed in her own act of resistance underground. Tyson, however, was hiding upstairs, under a bed. And Liana worried about her father living north of the capital, in a village close to Chernobyl, now occupied by Russian forces. He’d crept out of his home last night, crawling through fields under cover of darkness, to see Russian troops throwing tarpaulin over heavy weaponry to hide them from view.
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