In the first days and months of the WAR, I could not breathe. The walls of my home became a memorial - they absorbed the faces, the screams, the fear, and the grief, so that I could survive.
Just a tiny ZAYEBUSHEK, xhausted
painting / graphics
This is a portrait of survival at the limit. It’s not just a tired bird; it is an image of a soul shattered by war, where "tiredness" has turned into a permanent state of being "f***ed up." A tiny creature carrying a weight it was never meant to hold, frozen in a silent scream of exhaustion.
