Instagram Post Text
Attention! Translation was done using AI, mistakes are possible
They were my first little helpers — modest, kind, they never refused to help. The girls drew beautifully; they always made all the school wall newspapers.
The mother of a classmate they were friends with called me. She said, this and that, the girls have been killed. I called their mother; she said: “Yes, yesterday.” It was hard for her, but she could still talk.
I thought they were safe. Their mom had taken them to the village, to a safe place. But it turned out they’d come back to their mom — they missed her. They went for a walk and stopped in at the Ria pizzeria (the place that was hit — SP). I still can’t believe it.
Their classmates started writing about Anya and Yulia in the group chat. I can see what state they’re in and I say: “If you need to, let’s meet, talk, cry together.” They say: “Yes, of course.” We’ll meet now, at six in the evening, online. The kids are in shock too, horrified. I’ll try to talk to them somehow, calm them down — I don’t know what I’m going to say to them.
