When will the night end? That’s what I’ve been asking myself. I sometimes ask myself if day ever existed, if it wasn’t a dream of warmth and light and sun. That one word, sun, I keep it in my heart. How beautiful it is. Sun. Will I ever see the sun again?
The pale, marble figures are frozen in their dance. Sometimes I dance with them. I am not as graceful as they, but I do move. They are dead things. They don’t move. Their dance is dead, frozen, trapped. I’m trapped, under this pale moon.
Will the night end?
Tale Told 
In Ukraine and other tragic war-torn areas, it seems the “nightmare” will never end.
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God have mercy on the whole world
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