What Remains of Bakhmut

The shattered glass and broken furniture scattered everywhere gave the impression that a tornado had passed through, but it was something much worse.

Serhiy stepped carefully over the debris, his boots crunching against the remains of what had once been a kitchen table. A broken teacup lay nearby, its delicate porcelain now nothing more than dust and jagged edges. His mot...

Strawberries & Robots

In Grandma’s garden, wild and free,

Where blossoms dance and bend with glee,

A fruity world, a wonderland,

With vines that twist and roots that stand.

Between the peaches, apples bright,

And rows of greens in golden light,

A curious hum began to grow—

A sound both new and strangely low.

From metal limbs and gears so tight,

The robots wandered, beaming bright.

With blinking...