Samsara of Ukraine

Or the untold story

“Who are you?” I don’t like this question. It means nothing to me. “Where did you come from and where are you going?” is the most meaningful question for me. Tell me where you came from, and I will find out who you are. Tell me where you are going, and I will guess who you want to become. The path. Our path is what defines a human being. Or even anyone else…

Where am I coming from? I am heading from many lives. Many births and deaths. From hatred and love. I did not choose these lives, but I accepted these fates.

Everyone has only two things in life: their road and their home. Well, I have only the road. It is endless and unpredictable. The ritual of the road is the ritual of the Wind. The one that is merciless to everything human. The thief wind that steals everything we value from us. The killer wind… And I got used to death, and I accepted it.

And where am I going? The answer is that I do not know what Home is.

“Good evening. Pour me a rum,” I asked the barman as I stood at the bar.

“Coming right up, Hurricane,” he nodded and turned away.

“Hurricane?” a woman’s voice sounded behind my left elbow, and I bowed my head. “What an interesting name. What does it mean?”

I didn’t look in her direction, because making eye contact means starting a conversation. And in this place, that would not end well.

“Don’t you know? It means a strong wind.”

“I have this information. But why do you have that name? Or a nickname.”

“It has its own origin. I’m not going to tell you the story of my life.”

The woman next to me snorted merrily.

“The story of my life!” Are you kidding? We don’t live.We’re all travelers here. You know that, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

The barman put a glass of rum in front of me, and I quickly grabbed it. However, before the glass touched my lips, a woman’s hand appeared in front of me with a small cup.

“Shall we drink?” she said, and then I couldn’t help but turn my head to the other woman.

Starting a conversation with a man is half the trouble. You know where it can lead. As a rule, it will be just a polite exchange of a few phrases. But a conversation with a woman is a completely different story. You never, I repeat, never know where it can lead you and how it will end. Perhaps your triumph, or perhaps your death.

This is an excerpt from my novel Samsara of Ukraine. I wrote it during the war. Its genre is magical realism. The book mixes reality with fantasy. It mingles people with Gods. It combines quantum physics with mythology. I would really, really like to publish it in English in Europe os USA.

Because first of all, it is a fascinating story.

And secondly, it is a story that wants to be read.

If you want to support me — you can do it on Donatello (Ukrainian platform that helps creators). https://donatello.to/Yarvolod

OR you can buy me a coffee https://bmc.link/ostapsoko