It is the second day of the war. I am in Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh). This is a large-scale war, although for outsiders, it seems to be just "fireworks.” At best, the world will meet it with interest, a mention in conversations over coffee or tea in the morning and neutral political calls, which will not change anything.
Stepanakert, the capital of Artsakh. The air is dusty. There is uncertainty in the dust. I say goodbye to Mika, my friend's 22-year-old son, whom I met by chance here. He is going to the front line. Before he leaves, we take a selfie and we wait for a long time, sometimes even laughing, until Mika's backpack disappears behind the doors of the bus. It will be for a long time before we have news from him.