A thousand days of war between Russia and Ukraine. In a thousand days, as it turns out, you can get used to anything. My friends who come to Moscow after a long break say that the entire city is covered with advertising posters calling for people to go to war for five million rubles. My friends in Moscow have not noticed this for a long time and believe that they live exactly as they did before. Many are convinced that life has even become better now: everything is flooded with money, restaurants are still packed, premieres are thundering and there is no respite from jam festivals. Cities are plastered with advertisements for contract killing, but people - except for the target audience of this advertising - have learned not to see it. And the target audience, thirty thousand people a month, go to war for these five million, on average, to live there for two weeks and die or become crippled. In a thousand days, the war has been completely normalized. An economic catastrophe has not happened to the country, but a moral catastrophe has happened. And the festival prosperity of the Russian capitals does not cancel this catastrophe in any way, but only shades it. A thousand days of murders of innocent people in Ukraine, the destruction of their cities, a thousand days of senseless victims on the Russian side, a thousand days of accustoming oneself to silence and to playing along with the authorities in cannibalism, finding excuses for war crimes, mental gymnastics that allow one not to feel oneself on the side of evil - and voila. Now emigration seems crazy, naive, empty-headed to Russians - only because they still, like three years ago, feel the horror and senselessness of this slaughter. This war is an inoculation of evil, allowing one to live with evil and not get sick. This war is the enslavement of the only free generation of Russians, who will now grow up as the same homo soveticus as we are, and as were our grandfathers.