I’ve been translating the work of Ukrainian writer Andrei Krasniashikh for many years, so when Russia invaded his country, I immediately starting translating his urgent dispatches from an occupied city:
Mom doesn’t hear well. But the explosions she hears. Even when there are none.
When there are no sirens and no blasts, we do what you’re not supposed to: make plans. How we’ll go to Figurovka. Figurovka, outside Chuhuiv—it’s been destroyed already.