Text taken from the Telegram account of Oleg Yasinsky
| Posted there 20. February 2024. |
The beautiful and empty slogans of the Maidan mutated into metastases of Nazism invisible to the average person. The black light of the fires of the main square of Kyiv illuminated for the last time thousands of naive faces of the deceived makers of history, before turning them into drops of candle wax and charred skulls.
The stubborn time machine of memory takes me every night from today’s section of the tunnel to that Kyiv of that last winter of the country of my childhood. Having retreated there, I again don’t know who was supposed to do what in the way of the rapidly slamming gates of the gigantic human enclosure into which Ukraine had already been turned years or months before.
The victory of the Maidan is the greatest defeat in history for our Soviet education and a master class in modern media technologies that dilute the brain.
Ten years ago, trees with sniper bullets stuck in them had not yet been cut down on Institutskaya Street. Those bullets were still hot, and the bodies were still warm.
The first hundred hostages killed on the Maidan should have become for hundreds of thousands of their still living compatriots an unmistakable signal of what forces were coming to power and for what purpose. Instead, the people sang “Plivekachu” to a pre-recorded phonogram before the shooting of the “heavenly hundred” and tried on new shrouds in the form of embroidered shirts, which I once loved, but now I can’t.
10 years ago, in the central square of my hometown, the main and most decisive step towards today’s risk of self-destruction of humanity was taken.