IX

I’m in Przemyśl. You fucking can’t get attached to people. Because whoever you meet will be going to Ukraine eventually, to war zone, to the front, to buildings where missiles might strike, on streets that are not safe. Whoever you meet might or might not die, but the possibility of dying and never coming back is there and real. People die, friends die, soldiers die, civilians die, feelings die and heads get numb, thoughts get foggy, and hearts get blunt. But it allows us to be able to work 24h shifts, to be alert all the time and to hustle through.

The moon over Przemyśl is still shining on the horizon and we’re ready to leave for Night Shift. My friend’s hand is resting on my lap, I hold it decently and notice our rings in the incident light. We’re sitting in the car driving to Tesco again. A circle of working, sleeping, fucking, eating. And now and then talking, about war about what’s happening, about updating us on all the missions and about the ‘normal life’ that we all once had before working at Tesco. Steve is sitting in the back of the car this time. I admire his English accent from York. ‘Tomorrow’ is one of my favorite words. I love him saying it maybe as we actually all don’t know what’s coming tomorrow.

I have moved to a different house since working at Tesco in Przemyśl. I’ve moved from the lovely countryside from our white cabin at the river with a beautiful, green residence to the city of Przemyśl in a big house up the hill with a priceless view over the city and to the hills across. I spy churches, castles and far in the distance I imagine the border — where I’ve been many times now, also to work at the warehouse sorting aid that goes to Ukraine. It feels nice to live in the city. Tescos is only a 10 minutes drive away I know now by heart and driving through the roundabout in front of Tesco feels like I’ve been living in this neighborhood forever. I cross the river San on my way over a beautiful iron bridge where next to the water the golden sun shines down at soft facades. In the old town I spot picturesque town houses, narrow streets and the typical architecture of Galicia. I pass the beautiful train station with its railway line Lviv — Przemyśl. What a beautiful city. What a pleasure to live here. Besides the war happening at the other side of the border, I have learned to live with the tragedy surrounding us and yet being able to enjoy. Life must go on and we can’t focus only on the bad. Nevertheless I’m here to work and between my 15 hour sifts, sleeping, cooking and enjoying the sun for 2 hours nothing much is going on — yet it feels like the day has 48 hours, weeks feel like months and moments feel like forever. Forever sounds like a beautiful word and forever I would like to stay here in Przemyśl in this beautiful city with the warmest people surrounding me, living a life that has purpose and a meaning and is easy even though we’re facing the hardest circumstances. We make it easy by supporting each other, by listening, by being there for each other. By helping to arrive and to finally rest.

Yet my wishful thinking of staying here forever is burst by the reality that I hope, I desperately hope my help is not needed here forever, that war ends, that people will return to their normal life, away form the city and far away from war. Or is rather this a wishful thinking? Will we never be able to return to home?