If you walk out of my house and turn to the left, go farther on some one-hundred and fifty meters, and then turn left again, you’ll see a site between two blocks of flats. Some time ago, a little post was set up at the edge of the site. It read that here a square would be arranged in memory of the fallen internationalist warriors.
Some time has passed. In place of the square a shop was erected under the title of Family Money-Box. Behind the shop a parking lot was built.
And what about the square? What about the memory of young guys who gave their lives away in implementation of the desk-bound commanders’ orders? Nothing… The commanders deemed it wiser to erect here two commercial facilities. Memory, no doubt, is sacred. But money is more so.
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