R and I are outside, trying to get somewhere. it’s gloomy and overcast. our only path is through a wartorn city in Ukraine. we run through a series of dark warehouses populated sparsely with backpacked male individuals, usually sitting, silent, on their phones. they don’t seem to be in a rush or concerned about any immediate danger, but R and I are afraid of drone strikes, looking up to the sky when we exit into grey courtyards and parks. R runs ahead of me. i call out to her, scolding her to slow down, afraid to be left behind.
