I drove to Naples to meet my Kyjiwer girlfriend O., who in the south, where spring began to develop, made a week on vacation. In order to escape the winter and the war, she traveled to a place that was destroyed almost 2000 years ago and has been showing a museum for years of years, frozen by the destruction as in a time capsule, as on a photography. O. had her dream of going to Pompeii. She followed her dream and I followed her. Especially at this time when nobody knows how it will go out, the Ukrainians do not give up their dreams, even if they can only appear briefly. As the daughter of a well -known Ukrainian archaeologist, O. has spent every summer with excavations in Crimea and South Ukraine every summer. I thought of what it feels like for her, from the country with the growing number of ruins, where the chance of civilians’ accidental death belongs to everyday life, with all the events and pictures from home that cannot be “archived” to go to the dead city? City, which was overgrown with glycinia, just like the O.’s farm in Kyjiw. A few steps further I came across a church door where a service was announced in Ukrainian, and indeed: in the majestic semi-decayed church, a Greek-Catholic liturgy was celebrated in the middle of Naples. It was preached and sung in Ukrainian, the pastor spoke to the women, because there were only women there, his words of consolation and perseverance, they also reached me, the tourist. Then, while shopping, I found myself in a small shop, his owner was Ukrainian, and I left the shop with a bag of Ukrainian food in my hand, like a parody of the Pompejan Freskos of Primavera, the spring goddess with the corn horn. I was in Italy but the Ukraine didn’t let go, just like in my texts. This text comes from the Frankfurter Allgemeine Sonntagszeitung. I have been to Pompeii, many years ago, on a special day. I admired the frescoes in their red and the rare blue, studied the mythological scenes and twitched together at the sight of the scary creeping body, which were encountered by the lava at the moment of death – when my companion received an emergency call: Fukushima has exploded, a tsunami flooded the coast. It felt like a short circuit: a fatal message in a dead city. In Pompeii it was swarming with Japanese tourists who knew nothing yet. We hesitated whether we should tell you what happened in your home country. When we reached the Piazza Garibaldi in Naples, we saw a wave on a huge canvas, tall like a high -rise, the people devoured and destroyed everything that lay in their way. O. I went on excursions: the name means “burnt earth”, where the saying was the battle of the new gods, where a temple of the blessed man won Sibylla is where you can explore the entrance to the underworld. In the regional train we read each other’s vertical scales, as if we wanted to remember the new world situation with his future prices. After Pompeii, we only came on the last day. At this place, the sudden destruction exposes the most intimate and at the same time preserves it forever – a paradox that I could not understand until the end. When we left the terrain, I looked back at the majestic Vesuvius, the pines that shape this landscape and took a farewell photo. I photographed what I saw: Pompeii through the sunglasses. The vesuvian sits in a warm sepiaton and on the right, as painted, the amphitheater that is reminiscent of the public killings that were held there to amuse the audience.
