Once,
Leaving for Kijv, felt like a parachute jump. From home, the night before my departure, I was watching on CNN the tall flames in Maidan. As soon as I arrived, Igor, a dentist serving as emergency physician, offered me a 'revolutionary tea' in the makeshift hospital in Prorizna St.
People were busy extracting stones from the pavement of Kreshatik. To be thrown at the Berkut or to build barricades.
At night, the funeral of a fallen, stopped supporters visiting activists on the barricades.
I was 3km away, when the massacre occurred in Institutskaya Street. Everything went fast. When the news of the escape of Yanukovych broke out, I got quickly back to the Square.
All that was left was charred, exhausted, traumatized. A sea of tears, crowns of thorns, and a young angel praying in church with plastic walls.