YEVGENY PRIGOZHIN. INSTEAD OF A EULOGY

The paths of his life and duty defy any invitation to sentimental exaltation. Yevgeny Prigozhin emanated a sort of passive acceptance of death. A man of war always addresses death on familiar terms — anything less is unthinkable. He was a personality, one of those men who are more real than reality, an echo of centuries past. Above all, he embodied the essence of true manhood, a quality increasingly foreign to a world speeding towards the abyss. A man committed to the relentless pursuit of his vision, unafraid of the consequences. He commanded respect and stood prepared for challenges that would daunt ninety-nine percent of humanity; that ninety-nine percent of humanity wouldn’t even understand. Yet he spoke in a plain language the common man could understand and identify with; his values were those of this common man, and in a strange way, he was his representative on the big stage that is our world. Some people you may not be acquainted with, you may not meet them once in your life, but in your heart, you somehow get them.

He gave tens of thousands of forsaken souls a chance at redemption. He oversaw the destruction of tens of thousands of enemies. This is what he will be remembered for — not any of the petty (in the historical perspective) political scandals, including the latest, greatest one. None of that will matter when the history of this era is written. Russia lost a fierce conqueror and acquired a grand legend; the world lost one of the few men of power who stood apart from a grey mass of interchangeable drones. And as with so many worthy leaders, a fair few people will continue to believe in his miraculous survival and mythical return. The rest of us shall bow our heads, cross our hearts and say a prayer.

Farewell, uncle Zhenya. 💀