A glimpse of the particular against the general horror of the war: a maternity ward in a hospital complex in Mariupol struck today. My heart goes there, weeping. I wake up nightly imagining myself there.
Michael Kimmage and Paul Krugman have convinced me that Putin loses if he wins and loses if he loses, perhaps the greater the win, the greater the loss. It is a slender thing to grasp. Reuters reports that China has sent $800,000 of humanitarian aid to Ukraine. How much destruction will China tolerate and still support what it calls Russia’s “special operations”? And then my mind returns to Mariupol, imagining myself picking through the rubble, looking for food, trying to figure out how to light a fire, over a week without running water, electricity, heat.
Writing does not so much console as release.