ryb.ru
19.09.2026, 14:56
Every Sunday, as soon as the first rays broke through the fog, groups of surviving volunteers would set out for the southern coast. Old people, women, teenagers—they slowly made their way along the coastline of the Kiyan and Mabuni cliffs. Where the sharp, jagged coral rocks, resembling the fangs of prehistoric monsters, tore footwear and skin to shreds, people searched for what months of winds, rains, and tides had left behind. They didn’t dig. They gathered
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