For more than a month I have been constantly experiencing two opposite emotions - hatred and pride. Hatred for the completely destroyed Mariupol, for mass graves and thousands of killed people who cannot be buried with dignity now. For my wounded friends and killed colleagues in Kyiv. For the dead Ukrainian children, today there are 158 of them, tomorrow there will be more. For raped Ukrainian women. For the destroyed Kharkiv, Chernihiv, Kherson, Kyiv, Sumy and many other cities and villages. For starving animals in Ukrainian zoos. And for an infinite number of ugly, inhuman reasons ... for the fact that the familiar world no longer exists. But there is Pride. I’m proud of my father, a pediatric surgeon who works around the clock in the hospital, where are children from all over Ukraine. I’m proud of the doctors who performed my stepfather's surgery under endless sirens and help him fight oncology. I’m proud of my friends, the guys who returned to Ukraine from abroad on the first days of the war and went to the city defense. I’m proud of my colleagues and friends who help from all over the world, who stand with Ukraine on rallies and share information with the modern society. I’m proud of my brave, free people, who are now united as never before. Ordinary people today, fighters and defenders, have been forcing russia to break its teeth. I drew this watercolor heart and it hurts, like every Ukrainian one.