Feature image by Maria Prymachenko, A Dragon Descends on Ukraine 1987 Before I share two Ukrainian stories, a moment to confess my weakness as a storyteller. There is a particular heaviness in sharing other people’s stories. I’ve always felt it. When I share my own story, it feels as though I am putting something down. The story remains my own, but it feels lighter as I continue to carry it. When I share other people’s stories, it feels as though I am picking something up. The heaviness remains with me, it weighs down my thoughts, my work, my cells, my step, my eyes. It’s the least I can do. That weight is an honor and an obligation.
A Confession, A Bomb, A Knife
Feature image by Maria Prymachenko, A Dragon Descends on Ukraine 1987 Before I share two Ukrainian stories, a moment to confess my weakness as a storyteller. There is a particular heaviness in sharing other people’s stories. I’ve always felt it. When I share my own story, it feels as though I am putting something down. The story remains my own, but it feels lighter as I continue to carry it. When I share other people’s stories, it feels as though I am picking something up. The heaviness remains with me, it weighs down my thoughts, my work, my cells, my step, my eyes. It’s the least I can do. That weight is an honor and an obligation.
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