In an instant, someone decided they could rip a person out of their usual rhythm of life and make them wander through the world. And now I walk between walls in mental chaos. Every day, I light many candles and stare at them for hours, hoping to find within myself a spark to ignite it and have at least some hope for life. I scream in my weakness to the heavenly lanterns and ask: how much longer do I need to wait? Who is he, where is he, what is refuge, and why don’t I feel peace and protection, even though my body is safe? You give me physical refuge, but who will give refuge to my thoughts, my emotions, my fears, my love, my loyalty? When will I allow myself to approach the white canvas? Why is it so easy for you, but still so frightening and uncomfortable for me? Why do I still fear sleeping and waking up? Another country has now become mine. Today, I am far from physical harm, but it hurts so much that I have no strength to endure and not think about it. Every day, I live in a faint hope, and every day, its price grows and decays. I don’t have time to warm up, to rest even for a second, with my heart and soul. I hear about safety, but I don’t know how to feel it. How much longer do I have to wait? Everything around is colorful, yet it feels black and white. It doesn’t matter whether it’s today or tomorrow. I need to forget everything as soon as possible, even more so than yesterday. But the rushing streams of thoughts, like a wild windmill, knock me off my feet, and even what I did today in the afternoon gains empty meaning by evening. Devaluation and prohibition follow every action and every step. Time only adds more questions: who am I, do I exist here, what is important or more important, what can I allow myself, and when will I stop self-restricting, when will I see that there is someone else around me and when will I hear the one who speaks to me? The realization of the fluidity of time makes me worry even more. Self-torture becomes a habitual state. But over time, I come to the realization that I am still not alone. I feel that it can be better and quieter (in the soul). Occasionally, I manage to return to work and immerse myself in hours of self-reconciliation. Peace (the establishment of peaceful relationships) visits everyone, regardless of the experiences lived in Ukraine or emotional states elsewhere. Time… Time heals some, ages others, for some it drags on or flies by, for some, it burdens their shoulders, cyclically “playing” one episode. I come to my senses when a new environment appears in my space or when I join a new community that is interested in what I do and who I am. It becomes easier to breathe, think, and sleep. Slowly, hope begins to emerge, but its price is thousands of erased lives and countless hours of painful experiences of everyone who was torn from the present in February. ... – what’s next?