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UKRAINE WAR DIARIES Such an unromantic midnight. And what kind of romance can there be in November, when the trenches are flooded with cold rain, twisting the bones into narval horns? The frozen moon is trying to swallow every look of the forelocked soldier who cannot sleep at this time. Sound thoughts come into their heads, drumming drops on the dugouts and saying: save your lives, lay down your arms, raise ✋