Natalia

Last name hidden for safety reasons
100x100 cm
Archival digital print on paper

Andrejs Strokins

Riga, Latvia
2024

Transcription under the portrait



Audio transcription

We had no special relationship with God. We simply wanted to survive.

All of us.

Even those who didn’t make it dreamed of escaping the hell of Mariupol.

Those torn apart by explosions, burned in fires, perished from illness, hunger, or wounds, suffocated under concrete slabs – they, too, wanted to live.

But somehow, we survived. And we have no grand plans for the future. We are not chosen. We are not the most brilliant or important people on Earth.

We survived by chance. Against age, health, and logic. Not because we were the kindest or the bravest. Not because we were the most beautiful or the smartest.

It just happened. By chance, we evaded death. It aimed for us, crept closer, but we kept moving.

We ran from one yard to another, switched basements, took different roads, and hid in strangers' stairwells.

We risked our lives under fire to make a call, to hear a loved one’s voice, no matter how faint the chance. Death hunted us, and we hunted for a signal.

The stars aligned this way. We exhaled and carried on living. And I, even now, don’t understand – why?