Mention honorable dans la catégorie « Photographie de Rue »

I left Moscow three years ago — not fleeing the war, but because I cannot live among murderers and I cannot stay silent.

I’ve been in Israel since July 23, 2023. I remember waking up on October 7th. I have never witnessed such human empathy — every Israeli who had a safe room opened their doors, invited strangers in.

I remember buying cartons of cigarettes for soldiers, cooking fresh pitas in a volunteer kitchen. I still can’t order shakshuka — my favorite dish — because every time I did, a siren went off. I wasn’t afraid. I was alone here. I simply followed Home Front Command instructions. Or maybe I had understood something deeper: I am finally home. And I’m not leaving.

When the Iranian attack came, I wasn’t afraid for myself — but I was terrified for my puppy, my French bulldog Pashka, who was born here. In the end, he became the best therapist in the shelter. I’d go down with him like Benigni with his son in Life Is Beautiful — turning it into a game. And Pashka entertained everyone. People still stop me on the street: “You’re Pashka’s mom from the shelter? Thank him for us. He’s a real personality.”

Now we are in the shelter again. Pashka is grown up. Sometimes the wind picks up — and blows stranger’s secrets open.