War started for me when Zviad came to power. Many here swore that war was out of the question, Soviet Union would never allow that.
Our village was burned the first time on the 12th of May in 1992. We were making Chacha in the yard.
I like the mess that the parallel back and forth creates but I am wondering if that can only hold true for sketches, for creating a base for a text then to be written.
Now my heart aches when my husband tells the story, I yell at him. Don’t remind me of that time, I tell him. What’s it all for?
On the 7th of August, half an hour before midnight, the gunfire began. We jumped out of bed, my mother didn’t even know what was happening.
The corpse was washed up by the river Representatives of the police and representatives of the prosecutor's office also went to examine it.
This slogan left the most bitter impression on me: Curse the woman who carries an Ossetian in her womb
They shot him and killed him right then and there. That kind of boy, some would say, what kind of mother had raised him?
How to think and/or imagine a world, which is devoid of humans altogether. How to think this unthinkable within the probable impossibility to think the without human using human thought?
As we were firing farewell shots for him, we could hear a sound on the other side, someone else was firing with us from Georgia
May God protect everyone from the pain I experienced then. I ran off. In front of the school, a sulfur spring was flowing.
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