Written by Yulia Babych
Translated by Yuliya Nesterenko 
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Here’s what else I want to still say…
In my last hours in the House of Trade Unions I had a unique opportunity to see almost all the “faces”…

I was watching a semi-conscious fighter who had fainted right in the hall on the floor, and the “faces” were just passing by me… Yatsenyuk (who turned out to be a lot taller than I had imagined him from afar), Klitschko (who turned out to be a lot shorter than I had imagined him from afar), Poroshenko, Tyagnibok, Briginets, Lutsenko, Shkiryak, Avakov.

I had a chance to look into the eyes of everyone… but not everyone looked into my eyes… Yes, concerned… the situation… these things are understood… but

Yatsenyuk passed by – as if a tank drove by – see nothing, hear nothing, I have more important affairs.

Tyagnibok passed by – looked… eye to eye – that’s good, that’s fair…

The same with Briginets.

Klitschko passed by… smiling for cameras (!!!)…

Avakov I saw earlier that day – he shook hands with me; he passed by me again – looked at me, at the fighter, near whom I was sitting, – nodded, looked me in the eyes – anxiety and heaviness in his thoughts… a conversation of looks: “Is everything all right?” (the look of Arsen Borisovich) – “We’ll make it through” (mine).

Poroshenko passed by – interviews right and left…

Lutsenko passed by… although no, did not pass by… he stopped… he stopped everyone who was plaguing him with questions, bent over the fighter… made sure that he was all right… and only then did he go on…

Shkiryak passed by… and with swearing and shouting he ordered me to clear out of there… and in such a way he saved me… from a lingering stupor… and turned on the instinct for self-preservation… Heh, sometimes only swearing can help))

Why did I write all this? – For myself… not to forget… that politicians are first of all personalities… and that not everyone can be painted with the same brush… not anyone…  them either…