He read the book no matter what. Neither at the destroyed houses, nor at the playgrounds scattered by fragments in the yard, nor at the skeletons of cars standing nearby. He sat quietly and turned the pages, although it was by no means safe to read in this place – a battle was going on in a few blocks on the outskirts of “Azovstal“.
My favorite artwork is a painting entitled "Peace" depicting a pair of doves in the cleft of a cliff face while a storm rages around them, totally secure in their shelter. This story reminds me of that painting.