One of my Donbassian cousins has a business. Since consumer goods and pretty much all food are scarce in the Donbass, she takes orders for goods and food items online, crosses the front lines into Ukraine, buys what she needs, and resells it in the Donbass for a premium.
To make matters worse, she crosses the front lines with her two small children. Just think about it. Dragging a toddler and a kindergarten-age kid around in such a dangerous area, roughing it out in the fields sometimes – it all sounds completely deranged to me.
None of this is an act of desperation or necessity. The whole family has been begging her to leave the war zone since the war started. Last week, the leader of the so-called People’s Republic of Donetsk was blown up into pieces half a mile from where my cousins are. It’s a bad, sad, and dangerous place.
But. . . she loves it there. Her husband loves it there. The other cousin and her husband, ditto. They have no particular political position. They are just happy with life.
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