Memorial Complex of Glory, Kharkiv

September 22, Kharkiv.

I have finally decided to try to describe my feelings about a certain event. At first I was sure that it was simply impossible to convey them in words. But since I later recounted it all to someone more than once, I thought - why not write it down. So, the event: having finally visited the wonderful city of Kharkiv, I was lucky enough to see the Motherland memorial. Let me say right away - you need to be there in person. All my attempts, all my desire to convey and share my emotions still cannot be fully realized. And it went like this...

Completely by chance, not heading anywhere on purpose, we drove around the city and looked at various places. This was my first visit to the city (I hope not the last). We - that is, me and my boyfriend. We arrived in the city already in the evening. In the morning Andrey had business to attend to, and we both had shopping to do, and overall the day promised to be hectic. It was already dark, rain had recently passed, but the weather was such that, you know, it was as if the sky had cried itself out and quietly calmed down. Everyone probably knows that feeling from a long journey, a new place that captivates you almost at once, draws you into its indescribable atmosphere, and you seem to live with it inside you, to breathe it... That is how it once was for me with Kyiv, Lviv, Uzhhorod. That is how it was in the hills of Murmansk in my childhood and in the mountains of Crimea and the Carpathians. Places, stories, books, and sometimes people have always captivated me with their new depth (provided that this depth is present in them).

But let me continue - already almost in love with this city, where Andrey showed me his favorite places (and he studied there for five years), I soaked up this tranquility. And then came the words with which all the magic began: "I don't know if it's still open, wait, let's see... Yes, here, I think, is the entrance... Let's go..." The first steps. A park? A public garden? Some sort of recreation area? Old student haunts? It could have been anything.

A turn. Ahead, an alley. Silence. Freshness. Darkness, lit by dim lanterns. Glints on the wet marble underfoot. Each step has to be taken carefully and slowly, not only because of the wet, slippery leaves, but also because with every one of these steps you become more and more imbued with something ancient, not primeval, but as if sacred. All of this was many times more interesting and unique to me because I have poor eyesight. The light, the glints, and the darkness were utterly mysterious. And on it went - more and more. At first the new emotions take hold of you, and your senses only gradually begin to return to normal.

And then came the turn of hearing. Music suddenly begins to seep into you from somewhere completely unclear. And, already in the grip of this place's magic, you become all ears. Symphonic music emanates from three memorial steles set at equal intervals along the right side of the alley. It does not leave you for a single step. Moving away from one stele, you seem to flow smoothly into the music of another.

But everything was still ahead.
-"Do you hear it?"
-"No..."

At first I really did not make out anything. As I said - the senses are so heightened that they return only gradually. The emotions already lived through seem unwilling to release you into the grip of new ones. I can already see the end of the alley ahead, the platform lit more brightly, and the monument - the figure of a woman - bathed in this light.

And then - yes! The sound bursts in not even into your ears or your brain, but as if straight into your chest! As if your own heart had gone mad and was trying to break free toward a kindred sound! Everything inside tightens, your breathing has almost stopped, you are afraid even to disturb with it what is happening to you. The sound is mesmerizing, and your legs keep carrying you toward it. Uncontrollably.

Only when I had fully stepped out into the lit area and the spell of the alley was left behind did the sound take shape as information.

IT IS THE BEAT OF A HEART. Having later read up about this monument, I now know that it is a human heart, a recording. But back then... Standing before her, you are certain that it is her heart beating, unable to find peace, aching and breaking for those she has lost. It is her heart that loves, pities, and remembers them all. It is thanks to its boundless strength that those who were lucky survived. And you become so imbued with this strength, depth, and longing that there is no power left to hold back the emotions. You are not even crying, these are not tears - it is your own little heart beginning to bleed from the realization of the might and strength of this place. Anxiety, awe, even a little horror replace one another within you chaotically... How could people have created such a thing?!

And no longer hearing your own feet, you turn and walk along the memorial with the names of the fallen. The beating begins to recede... The music seeps into you once more. Now from an utterly unknown source. The marble underfoot sings, the wall on the right sings, ahead of you, behind you - everywhere there is music...

I walked back quiet and as if stunned... My thoughts were not even tangled, but seemed to stand still... I did not want to speak.

The only thing I could manage was: "Now this, thank you for this".

Let me repeat - everything I have written is in no way comparable to what I actually felt there. Maybe I am too empathetic, or my feelings are heightened, but I am sure - no one will remain indifferent there.

And an enormous thank you to the person who opened this wonder up to me. And let me live through it.