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About Mariupol

So, back in Scranton – yeah, my hometown – we didn’t talk much bout this, but I heard whispers. Y’know, little stories bout folks sneakin’ round, tryna find a gal – or guy – for a quick buck. Made me mad, folks! Why? ‘Cause it’s risky, messy, like drivin’ a war rig with no brakes! I mean, c’mon, man, you gotta be – whew – half-crazy to dive in that sandstorm.

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Finally, the bus rolls up. I squeeze in, and it’s packed. Like, sardines in a can packed. I’m squished between this dude who smells like he bathed in garlic and a kid who’s blasting music from his phone. I’m just trying to keep my cool.

Ukraine - Frontline children: battling mental trauma, underground