I am a Ukrainian artist, based in Kharkiv – a beautiful city with a population over 1.5M, big center of science, culture, art, education and technology. Which was so unlucky to become located less than 40 km from the Russian border.

And this is my today’a working routine as a Ukrainian Kharkiv based artist. I woke up in the basement. Barely slept 3 hours since 5 am of the previous day. After that my partner, our friend and I packed our stuff and cats and came back to our apartment, as it was quiet outside and no predicted shellings occurred. We expected that we would be able to sleep. We prepared and ate dinner - I understood that the last time I ate something was when we just came to the basement for the first time yesterday. And it was one protein bar.

After having some rest we were going to unite with my mum in her car and go together to the blood donation center. But we didn’t manage to, because we heard loud noises of explosions, which seemed to come from a very nearby area. Then we got the news about the air alert. We packed everything back and ran down to the basement again. While we were there, Russian troops were firing at our city with «Grad», «Uragan» and «Smerch» rocket systems, combat projectiles fell in the different districts of Kharkiv, all of them close to the center and all of them – at the civil living districts. One shot my friend’s apartment, luckily no one was there at that moment. After everything got slightly quieter, we decided to go up again and have some sleep. We still heard explosions, but they were very very distant.

Though we didn’t manage to sleep this time either. When I was about to fall asleep, I got an informational alert message. And it said that there were bomber planes spotted just near our city. We packed everything again and this time it took us no more than 5 minutes. Even cats were super easy to catch this time. We went down to the basement again and from there we already heard explosions, and taking into account that the walls of our basement are 1 m thick – we understood that these explosions are too loud to be far from us. Then I read the news that Russia fires cassette rockets at different districts, at civil peoples houses. Citizens report shootings and war machines on the city’s border. Thanks to our warriors, they took them down very quickly. But it still continues. Explosions everywhere. We don’t hear them anymore and that makes us feel better, but not much.

Recently we got advice from the government through the messenger for all the people who live in high buildings to go and check the roofs – for marks that saboteurs may leave for aircrafts to aim at. My neighbours went to check quickly.

And at the same time we sit in the basement, listening to the explosions, we read the text of the Putin’a speech in which he calls our country «captured by drug-addict neo-nazi forces» and that our army uses women and children as living shields, so that we should be happy to be “saved” by Russia.

That’s what I do as a Ukrainian Kharkiv based artist in my home city, on my home land, in the center of Europe, in the year 2022.

Please share my story and show it to all over the world. Thanks. Death to the occupants. Glory to Ukraine!

Soon I will be able to update my LinkedIn profile with the following skills:

- define by sound the “Grads” and aviation, and how far the rocket has hit;

- dress up within 30 seconds (if you have undressed at all);

- quickly catch scared cats and put them into the bag;

- collect everything and go down to the bunker in less than 5 minutes;

- build barricades;

- make Molotov cocktails;

- see in the darkness;

- answer to hundreds of people that write me, express their support and ask how they can help, in a short time;

- maintain good mood and spirit and comfort people who are in panic or nervous;

I never asked for this, but now I am a fucking combat machine and have balls of steel.

We are now passed through the Day 7 of war In Ukraine. My home city, my beautiful Kharkiv, is being heavily bombed for 4 or 5 days in a row already, but actually I’m not sure how long is it being going.

I hear warplanes flying above our heads. Several times we heard the explosions so nearby that our windows were shaking and the cars’ alarms outside started screaming. Some were so close and loud we ran out of our flat barely dressed and with no shoes.

But some things became usual for us. Like when we stay upstairs in our flat and we hear distant explosions – we even do not move to run to the basement, because we know that they’re bombing someone else’s homes, not ours. Also we got used to the darkness – we are lucky to have all the communications working in our house, like electricity, water and heating (because other districts have their communications cut off very often), but after the sun sets we do not switch on the light in our flats, because that can drive the attention of our enemy – or marauders, or saboteurs. We started to perfectly see in the dark. Because you cannot also switch on the lighter on your phone, because through the windows when the night falls and it’s completely, extremely dark out there – its light could be quite clearly seen.

Apart from the complete darkness, it is so silent outside (of course when there are no shellings). Our city has never been so empty and silent. Though I cannot tell for sure – the last time I’ve been outside was on Day 1 of the war.

Oh, no, today I went to the fresh air once – it was for several minutes when I helped my mom, who escaped her district and managed to arrive to us, to take out her stuff from the car. Then I heard those very loud explosions. Today they really got very close.

But I have my mom here now, we are finally together! Previous six days she spent with her friends in the basement near her house in Saltivka district – the second largest living district in Ukraine with the population of almost 1/2 of million people, which consists mostly of 9-floor panel houses. The Russian artillery and warplanes aim specifically to those kinds of areas – because they can have many more civilians killed there.

Russian commandment is really angry on Kharkiv and other East Ukrainian cities like Mariupol, and they literally bomb are bombing us with their anger. They don’t even dare to get closer by the ground anymore – because their ground troops are so demoralized and unmotivated, that they surrender just seeing our Ukrainian warriors on the horizon. That’s why they fire at us with the rockets, launched from the warplanes 4-5 times a day. They use the missiles that are banned for use by Geneva convention – vacuum bombs and «Smerch» cassette missiles. They also send rockets from their own territory, from the bases nearby the city of Belgorod, which is also very close to the border.

Why are they doing this to us? Well, because they were thinking that Kharkiv would surrender without a single shot. They were thinking that because of Kharkiv is geographically and historically close to Russia, because people here have roots or families or a lot of relatives in Russia, because we are bilingual region where people speak Ukrainian and Russian – they were thinking that we here will meet them with flowers when they enter our city, as «liberators», as «saviours». But the only flowers that we have for them - are two carnation flowers. This kind of flowers, an even number of them, in Ukraine we usually put onto the graves. But we won’t be able to put them onto the graves of Russian soldiers. Because they even have no graves here.

Today the 10th day of the full-scale war comes to its end. Actually I’ve already lost count of the days, I hardly remember what day of the week is it. Fortunately, this day and the previous one were a bit more quiet than usual. We even spend the majority of our time in our flat, not in the shelter. And when we hear the close explosions, we rarely go downstairs, just run to the communal corridor of our house. The walls of this building are quite thick, and we feel kind of protected. We always remember “the rule of two walls” that is being learnt by heart by all the Ukrainians these days. It means that you need to have at least two walls between you and the missile when it hits your house.

On the night of the Day 9 we decided to stay and sleep in our beds at home, but at 2 am we were woken up by very loud explosions. I don’t remember putting my shoes on and taking my stuff and running to the shelter, I know that I immediately fell asleep again there. I have no dreams these nights, neither good dreams, nor nightmares.

I miss the silence – the real silence of calmness, from which you do not expect something terrible to come out. Here we don’t trust the silence anymore. We don’t hear the explosions for long and we immediately start asking ourselves, if it is for good or not. I hear the sounds of explosions and sounds of approaching warplanes in any sound – in a working air conditioner, in water pouring from the tap, in the noises from our neighbours that we hear in the corridors or in the yard. Sometimes my own blood pulsating in my head sounds like a distant bombardment.

Our basement is also silent though. Many neighbours managed to leave – by cars, by trains, by buses. Some of them went to the railway station and then came back, because they couldn’t catch the train, and after experiencing the nightmare of the crushing crowd, refused to try one more time.

Some new people arrived instead of those who left – relatives and friends of our neighbors who escaped from more dangerous areas. They spend some time with us and then leave to continue their sad trip to the west. All of them say that we in our basement have really luxurious conditions, compared to what they have had in their previous places of stay.

I noticed these people do not lie freely on our blankets, they sit still even when there is plenty of space around, even though I see how tired they are. I saw the child sleeping on her mother’s lap, they didn’t dare to lie on our blankets, though we offered them to everyone for sharing. I don’t know why, maybe they still cannot not believe they are safe now. I wonder if they will ever be able to believe in that.

I don’t know if I will. I feel so unprotected, so naked in my own home. I do not undress, even when I go to sleep, only take my shoes off. I am afraid to turn on the music in my headphones, to watch a movie, afraid to go to the shower or simply wash my face and brush teeth – because I’m afraid to miss the sounds of an approaching warplane or the sounds of the explosions that come too close. I prefer silence now – but if it lasts too long, it scares me even more.

Many people ask me how we are surviving here, do we have enough food, water and other necessary things. And it’s a bit strange for me to answer that we actually have everything – I bet people don’t believe me when I say that. And there’s a reason they don’t believe, because yes, for thousands of my fellow Ukrainians in different cities the situation is really extremely tough for now – especially in the cities that are being blocked by Russian troops who do not let anyone inside and do not let anyone to get out of there, like Mariupol and Volnovakha. And even in my home Kharkiv there are a lot of districts where the communications were cut off during the shellings, so that people had to survive without water and electricity. I consider myself and my neighbors sort of lucky, because in our area we never experienced anything like that… yet, and I hope we will never experience it.

Though in such tough conditions the surprising thing is that our city communal services are still working, and working 24/7 even under the falling Russian missiles. They do their best to try to fix as soon as possible the damages that were made to the communications, for example my grandmothers who live in Saltivka district – very populated and that’s why the most bombed district right now – haven’t had the electricity for 3 days, but by today everything has been fixed. We also see communal services workers cleaning the streets all the time, we saw the snow blowers a few days ago. We even have our garbage removed as usual. All this just surprises us a lot and makes us very proud of our city. The communal service workers say that if Russia doesn’t let them keep Kharkiv clean, they will go to Moscow and kick all their asses there. That’s definitely inspiring.

Also supermarkets are working, not during the entire day, but we still can get food and everything necessary. They have fresh delivery in the morning, so you really need to go early and queue, because if you are late there is a risk that there won't be anything left. We went to buy some groceries several times, together with some of the neighbours, and we bought food for everyone to share. My Mom helps in cooking and she cooks for us the dishes that I haven’t eaten since my childhood or since I’ve moved from her house to live with my boyfriend, and that makes me really happy. Unfortunately we cannot reach some districts and the supermarkets there by car, because we are located on the other side of the river and the barricades have been established on many important bridges, to prevent the enemy's invasion. That’s why it’s easier to move around some parts of the city by foot. But we are quite okay with what we have near our house, the only thing that bothers us is that we couldn’t go to the Botanical Garden, where the source with a very clean fresh water is located. We wanted to take a lot of bottles of water from there, to supply everyone for a longer period. But still we can get water from the supermarket and also we have a little water filter in our flat – it was brought to us by our friend Andriy, who stayed with us in the basement for the first 7 days and then managed to flee to Lviv together with his girlfriend.

Besides that, humanitarian aid is quite well distributed around the city. They give you bread, fresh water and some various foods. The easiest way to receive it is to go down to any metro station, also they give it away in schools, post offices and some administrative buildings. My grandpas often go to the nearest schools to receive the aid, last time they were also given packs of frozen dumplings and pancakes with meat. But my grandmother bakes bread on her own, she has a small baking device. My mom went to visit them two days ago and grandma gave us several hand-made breads of her own.

I have two grandmas and two grandpas, they all live in that district that is being bombed so heavily since the very beginning of the invasion – but no one of them wants to leave. They have cars and both my grandpas can drive. They are all quite healthy and they have a clear mind – but they told us they would stay. We cannot explain their decision, but we are not trying to persuade them anymore. Though it’s quite understandable why one wants to stay in their own house, on their own land, and why one can be too afraid to go somewhere else. My boyfriend, my mom and myself are not leaving for our own reasons as well. These days both decisions to stay and to flee require a lot of strength and a lot of courage to be taken.

When the third week of the full-scale war began, I noticed that we also entered some new psychological phase. I read a bit about it, the sources say that it’s normal, that mental health may experience a lot of ups and downs in such a huge and long-lasting stress. And that’s exactly what we feel now. After the euphoria and adrenaline rush of the first weeks, when the events developed so fast and each next huge success of our army was a great surprise and joy for us – we have found ourselves very exhausted of everything. And even the victories that our soldiers continue to gain became a bit of a routine. No, we still are proud and happy when we hear about every success. But we are expecting some big event to happen, something that will stop this war already or at least something that will give us a sign when it will be stopped. Meanwhile our enemy hasn’t stopped bombing us, so each next news about a destroyed building or killed people hurts us more and more. We are tired of seeing all these deaths and destruction – even though we personally see them only through the screens of our devices. The longer this war lasts, the more the Russian artillery and aviation continue their attacks – the more the fear that it is coming closer and closer and that someday it finally reaches us – this terrible and sticky fear is growing inside us. I see it in our neighbours behaviour – they now react to some things much more emotionally than even when the invasion has just started. We try not to think about what we are going to do if the next building hit by the missile will be our own house.

During the last two or three days the shellings became more intense. We think that it is somehow connected to the negotiations that are taking place now. The similar thing happened before as well, right in the days of talks the number of rockets falling on our heads from the skies was increasing quite a lot. And two days ago, when we were preparing to sleep in the basement, we heard a series of very loud explosions. They felt like it was happening just above us, even the walls of our shelter were shaking. We immediately stood up from our mattresses and ran to the lower level of the basement. We stayed there, frozen in terror, looking up without any movement. We were sure that this time it was our house that was hit. Everyone was very quiet, just waiting for something, either good or bad. After all sounds from outside disappeared, we slowly and carefully went to the upper level of the basement, to catch some internet and check the news in local Telegram channels. We saw that the huge historical market, located only 100 meters from our house, was hit, and the fire had started there. Our neighbours who dared to go and check if their windows on the 3d floor were still there, told us they saw smoke from that fire covering our entire district. One woman desperately tried to reach her granddad, who lived in that area, but he didn’t answer. She burst into tears and went into a real hysterics after he picked up the phone and said that he was just out to smoke a cigarette and didn’t take his telephone with him. I also saw my mother’s shoulders and hands shaking after that. I understood how close we got to that borderline which separated us from the state of a total panic.

And suddenly we had our electricity cut off. We found out that it was due to the construction work in the district – the missile and the fire damaged the line. The city services told us that we are going to have no electricity and heating for at least two days. That was the moment when I felt panic, because having no electricity means eventually having no internet and mobile connection. I think that becoming cut off from the outside world, not being able to call my beloved ones and find out if they are alive even and to tell that I’m still alive myself – like 300,000 people in the city of Mariupol now! – that is what I’m afraid of the most. Luckily we had the electricity fixed much sooner than two days after that – the next morning already. I’ve never been happier to be able to charge my phone. I think I will never blame our communal services for doing something wrong after the war is over.

My boyfriend Hlib joined the civil defence troops about two weeks ago. Since then I’ve seen him two times only, for a few minutes each – when my Mom and I drove to hand over some useful stuff for him and his comrades, and Hlib met us to pick them up. Now he is on the military base and doing training with their newly formed unit.

He cannot tell details about their location or about the specifics of their work, obviously. The only information I have is that he was appointed assistant grenade launcher and that the main responsibility of their unit will probably be patrolling the city and eliminating the enemy’s machines in case they dare to enter the city somehow, like it happened on Day 4 or Day 5. Also they change their location once for 5-7 days, in order not to get tracked. If their location is revealed somehow the enemy may fire at it at night, that happened before with other military bases, and many warriors were already injured and killed in their sleep this way.

Hlib knew he would join the troops since November. According to our plan that we had for the case of war (which we couldn’t implement) he would drive my mom, cats and some most valuable stuff to the west, and then he would come back and fight. And when the full-scale war started on 24.02 he knew that he would go there immediately, but first week we had to stay in the basement, as the shellings were really heavy. And of course he needed to make sure that me, my mother and his sister are safe. He phoned to the office of the civil defence everyday – and every day he heard that there were no vacant places. That’s true, during the first week there were long queues of volunteers who wanted to fight for their homeland. I believe that by now more than 150,000-200,000 volunteers have joined the civil defence. In Kharkiv they even had to reject people because they had no weapon to supply each of them. But at the end Hlib managed to join the additionally formed unit. He is very proud that he can do something to protect Ukraine, protect his family and his very identity and freedom that Russia wants to take from everyone of us. And I’m very proud of him.

Of course I’m afraid that he would be killed there. I am afraid of that every day. But the thing is that here in Kharkiv – you cannot be safe, wherever you are. Me, my mother and our neighbours may die any moment from the missile that is dropped on our house. Hlib may die from the enemy’s bullet – or similarly, if someone would reveal their location and the Russians fire at it. I think we came close to that point where death doesn’t seem something unusual, unfamiliar to be afraid of – it’s there for us every moment, wandering around, approaching for a while, then moving away.

I was afraid of death before, and I was afraid that my beloved ones would die. And I can’t say that I’m not afraid anymore, I still am. I think here we just learned how to leave with this fear. We became really close friends with it.

I’m often asked if I hate Russians now.

These kinds of questions make me feel a bit confused – and actually even a bit angry. Then I remember that for the people who are not here, who are not at war – it can really not be so obvious.

The thing is that war really divides the world into black and white, without any greys – the greys are for the peaceful times. Clear border between you and the enemy is the matter of survival. We cannot see any semitones in those who are killing us right now – basically we don’t have any time for that. So when I’m asked if I hate Russians I am confused and angry, because I know that when I (obviously) answer with «yes», I will be immediately told something like «Why? Not all the Russians are supporting the war!». And I don’t have any time and desire to explain my hate – and I think I have a full right not to do that, I have a full right to hate the Russians. Because that’s me who is sitting in the basement under the Russian bombs falling on my city, while my family and friends are in danger or had to run away in order not to be killed. And I say «Russians», and not just «Putin» or someone else – because it’s them, people of Russia, regular citizens of Moscow, St.Petersburg, Vladivostok, etc, who have been supporting Putin, supporting his imperialistic ambitions, and the whole colonialist discourse of modern Russia during all these years. Even if they haven’t been doing that openly. But they let this monster rise and attack, all of them – both who were loud pro-putiners and those who were not loud enough in their protest.

There are also some moments why we can’t think good about Russians, like the people in other countries may be able to do.

And it’s not just about all lies and insane propaganda that is being developed in Russia and that we can witness more directly than foreign people – because we understand the language and we have access to more local Russian-speaking resources. Not only because we hear what they keep telling about us on their TV, calling us nazis and denying our identity and our very right to live our lives independently. Not just about all their crimes towards the Ukrainian people that are being silenced and distorted by the Russian propaganda machine (for example they say that it’s we ourselves who are firing at us, while the Russians came here to save us).

It’s about what we hear directly from the Russian people whom we know and whom we were friends and even families with. Here in Kharkiv – and in the whole eastern part of Ukraine they are destroying so violently right now – you can barely find a person who doesn’t have any connections with Russia. My aunt has lived in Moscow since her 18, and my dad had to go there for work several years ago. I have many relatives and friends in many Russian cities, especially in Belgorod, which is only around 70 km from Kharkiv, and from where Russian rockets are being launched to Kharkiv civil districts right now. And Hlib, and many people I know, as well. So that’s why it’s been a bit difficult (personally for me for sure) to feel the pure hate towards the regular Russian people, even after the 2014 when the war actually started. Many people from the East of Ukraine, as I know, still used to have some illusions that if putin decides to start a war, Russians wouldn’t support him and resist.

But during these days you can’t even imagine how many messages my family and neighbors get from their relatives and friends from Russia, where they say to us, who are hiding from the Russian missiles at the same moment, that we are lying, that no one is bombing us, that all the photos of the destroyed city that we take directly from our windows are photoshopped… You cannot imagine how many families and friendships broke because of this invasion – even more than in 2014 – because Russians rather believe their propaganda than what their closest people say (of course if these closest people are Ukrainians).

Hlib lost his two friends in Russia, with whom he was in quite good relationships for years – or rather they have lost him because they supported the actions of their president and Hlib simply couldn’t forgive them this. Also I dare to say that Hlib lost almost his entire family who were in Kharkiv – dad, mom, grandfather, grandmother and youngest sister – because despite the fact that they lived in Kharkiv, they were brainwashed by Russian propaganda (which unfortunately can easily infiltrate into minds of people in any country) so much, that even being themselves under the shellings, hearing the sounds of explosions around, they kept denying that those were Russians who were firing at them and that it was putin who ordered them to do so. Hlib’s father almost sabotaged his elder sister Kira’s evacuation, because he didn’t want her to go to the western regions «occupied by Ukrainian nazis» (at the end we managed to evacuate Kira to Lviv and now she’s safe). And of course they now consider Hlib as a traitor, because he joined the Ukrainian army. Few days ago Hlib found out that father wants to evacuate the rest of the family to Russia. They still believed that Russia is the «savior» and that they will be treated well there. Since then they never spoke again.

Many of my elder relatives haven’t spoken with me for a while too. My godfather hasn't even called me to find out if I’m okay. Many people whom I considered friends unfollowed me on social media. With one of my two grandmothers we spoke only once during all this time. They don’t like my active pro-Ukrainian position and still do not believe that it’s Russia who invaded us and it’s only their fault in what’s happening here. My grandmother hears the explosions every hour, she doesn’t have electricity for a week already, because the line was damaged by a missile – but when we tell her about Russian artillery and troops, she says in surprise «Russians? What Russians?»

My aunt from Moscow called me once, she said that she’s very sorry for everything. My father is still there. I’m afraid about their safety.

It’s been several days already since we have entered the second month of the full-scale war. I don’t like to sum up things or think about what I have learned or understood during a certain period. I don’t even try to realize how much my life has changed compared to the life before 24.02 – better just to accept the fact that it will never be the same.

Even some things that the war incorporated into our daily routine – things that seemed terrible and just impossible before – have become so usual that I even stopped noticing them at all. For example the air alarms, or the sounds of explosions, sleeping in the basement, or spending the evenings in almost complete darkness. Being triggered by every sudden, even a very silent, noise is also quite a regular thing for us now. For this reason many people say that after the victory all fireworks should be banned in Ukraine forever.

People began to come back to Kharkiv. It’s said that there are even some traffic jams at the entrance to the city. Communal workers are cleaning the streets and preparing city parks and gardens for the spring season. Every day it gets warmer and warmer. Everyone is happy to see the trees turning green bit by bit – but not just because it’s the sign of spring. Green leaves and green grass is the best camouflage for our soldiers and guerrillas, ideal for successful sudden attacks.

Though the shellings are still continuing, and still remaining quite intensive in some districts, people are advised to get back to their «normal lives'» – to their jobs, families, and daily routines. But the thing is that this old «normality» doesn’t exist anymore, and the new one hasn’t been invented yet. So many people just freeze in this in-between condition, unable to move in any direction. I cannot even imagine what people who have lost something or someone (or even everything and everyone) feel in this situation. They are told to try to live further, and they know they need to - but how is that possible after what has happened, and how can one dare to do that?

But sooner or later we all will need to get out of this frozen state, to find resources to continue our life and fight, to work for our country, to restore and rebuild the cities. All of us will have to deal and cope with this trauma forever, and all of us will be suffering from the survivor syndrome.

Well, actually I learned something during this month, about people around me and about myself. I learned that we Ukrainians have really become a united, solid nation – and I have a strong feeling that we’ll manage to rebuild our country very soon. It is said that more than 90% of Ukrainians who have left the country will come back immediately when it becomes possible. And these days we, Ukrainians, go to the streets and help to clean them already, by our own initiative. We share, we support each other, we volunteer, we provide services for free, we are ready to help strangers in trouble anytime and at any cost. We donate our last money to the Army and humanitarian needs. We raise hundreds of thousands of dollars just in a couple of days to help not only people, but also animals. We can self-organize fast and act more effectively than the biggest institutions or foundations. There’s a joke that Ukrainian volunteers can find anything, even a unicorn’s horn – you just need to post a request on Facebook. And it’s not like the war changed us. It simply vividly showed what the Ukrainians have always had.

And I understood about myself that I really have power, despite I always thought that I was rather a thinker than a fighter. Now I see that thought and word may be an effective weapon too. Also now I understand that I will never leave my city, my country. It’s hard to explain, it is just what you have deep inside. Something very much similar to love – which is always connected with the strong feeling of responsibility. I think we all feel this responsibility now. That’s why I just cannot leave my Kharkiv, despite the fact that I’m able to, and I’m warmly invited to any country, to any place on Earth. But I don’t want to go. To stay in Kharkiv and meet our victory here, at home – that’s my biggest wish so far.

How can one live further after Bucha, Mariupol, Borodianka, Hostomel, Irpin, Chernihiv, Kramatorsk? How is it possible not to go completely insane, to stay strong even despite all the horrible atrocities that we all have seen there?

That Sunday, when the first photos from Bucha were published, I felt what it is – when the entire nation, every single person dives into a total desperate grief. We all saw that the Russians had come to eliminate us all – men, women, children, elders, Ukrainian and Russian speaking, everyone. We understood that those thousands of garbage bags and mobile crematoriums that we heard in the news Russians took with themselves here – weren’t for them, but for us. I couldn’t imagine that I’ll ever see pure evil in my life – I’ve never believed in pure good or evil actually – but that day I saw it. If it still sounds naive or too radical for you – please take a look at the photos from Bucha once again.

My Mom cried that day for the first time since the very Day 1. I was hugging her while she was crying on my shoulder, but I couldn’t cry myself. I was just thinking that I shouldn’t cry now – for my Mom, because it would cause her even more pain to see me crying.

I’m not a psychologist and I don’t know how one should help themselves to cope with things like that. I know that each person is living through this in their own way. Crying is normal, as well as not crying. Being desperate is normal, as well as being brave. We share this grief, but each of us expresses it differently, depending on how their individual organisms react to that kind of stress. I don’t blame anyone for their reaction, but I don’t have any recipe of how to cope with this in a less painful way.

Many people ask me how can I stay so positive among all these horrible events, how can I keep my spirits so high. I used to answer that there are 3 things that keep me positive: first is my rage towards the Russians, second is my strong desire to help my country, and the third is our Armed Forces and how bravely they fight for us every day. But to be honest the question is much more complex.

The truth is that I don’t know what helps me to stay strong. I think that I’m very lucky – because we are staying in a more or less safe place, I still have a home, my family is okay, and I don’t have anyone killed or injured among my loved ones. I haven’t seen those atrocities with my own eyes – only through the screen of my smartphone, maybe that’s what also protects my mental condition. I don’t know how I would have reacted, how would my organism have tried to protect itself from complete breakdown if I saw all this, if I experienced it myself. I’m afraid I would have gone insane.

Actually when the invasion began my psyche turned out to be way more stronger than I expected. You can never know everything about your real inner strength until you face some real stress, like war. All my resources mobilized for a fight, switched to the fully prepared mode. And the mind suddenly became very clear. I was feeling rage and anger – emotions that I used to suppress before – but that time I understood that I needed to stick to them, to keep them always inside me and to grow them even more. Because they weren’t abstract and aimless anymore – those were the rage and anger towards the enemy, the most productive emotions for a battle. Only they could help to fight despair, confusion and panic – the most dangerous things at war. Our enemy wants us to be desperate, to be afraid, to panic, and thus agree to accept any conditions they would propose to bring the peace back – agree to surrender. But – as we saw in Bucha - to surrender would still mean death for us, because they came here to destroy us all anyway. So the rage was a means of survival. And still is. Rage together with a cold mind.

This is what helps, even after Bucha, Irpin, Mariupol, Kramatorsk. By doing all these horrible things to us, violent, brutal, demonstrative atrocities, the Russians try to intimidate us, to make us unable to resist. But it doesn’t work with us – because Ukrainians are free and brave people, we are not cowardly slaves. Our rage has only grown, and with every tortured, raped and killed Ukrainian – not only humans, but animals as well! – it grows bigger and bigger.

Everyone feels that, but I know that not every person is capable of coping with that rage and grief, of putting them in a proper direction. It’s not about weakness of course, just about the resource of an organism – and, yes, luck. I’m lucky to have my resources in their full power. That’s why I’m responsible for supporting and sharing this resource with those who need it. That’s why I stay positive, keep my spirits high and try to raise people’s spirits by posting positive and motivating content in social media. I know that I need to do this, as real work actually, because it’s so important at war. People need positive energy, despite all the horrors, to keep fighting on the battlefield, to keep helping the refugees, volunteering, treating the injured, taking care of families, working for the country’s economy, making art. And if I’m capable of making my contribution to it somehow – I will do that.

Now it really seems that a new phase of the war has started. We in Kharkiv felt it very well, as the Russian shellings got even more intense during the recent two weeks. I know that many people outside Kharkiv were afraid that the Russians would now try to occupy our city, but we here really understood that it would be impossible for them to succeed in it. Especially now, when they have lost so many soldiers and equipment, and when Kharkiv became a true fortress. Russia keeps threatening us, but just not to let our defenders go and help their comrades in Donbas. But what else we understood pretty well – is that Russians would fire at us so violently like they probably never did before. And so it happened. On one day the shellings of Saltivka district, where my mother lives, continued non-stop, and her house that had been lucky enough to stay untouched before – was damaged, and many of our neighbours lost all the windows in their apartments. Still my mother’s apartment remained fine somehow, though the missiles have been falling directly in our yard. I am really happy now that we managed to bring my mom to our place, which is so much safer compared to that neighbourhood.

Also there were several brutal rocket attacks at the central part of the city, with many people killed and injured, much more than before. We were in the city when one of the rockets hit – we heard it whistling in the sky above our heads, like a racing car, and then we heard a huge explosion, so loud that even my ear hurt during the next few hours. About the next rocket hits we’ve found out from the news, somehow we haven’t heard them from our apartment, though they were quite close to us. One of my favourite streets, by which I used to walk to the art academy every day, was hit, and the academy itself seems to be damaged quite a lot as well.

But even in these terrible times there is a place for happiness and joy. One of Hlib comrades – Misha - decided to get married with his girlfriend Svitlana, and asked us to be their best man and bridesmaid. The wedding took place early in the morning on the Day 54, everyone gathered in the town council of one of the Kharkiv small suburb towns – because in Kharkiv itself the registry offices don’t work still. There was another couple getting married – the groom was from the same battalion as Hlib and Misha. There were a lot of guests – all men in military uniform, many of them hiding their faces, and actually some women were in the uniform too, but most of them were wearing nice dresses. The ceremony was held in a small room which seemed to be used before as a regular office of the town council, but for that special purpose it was decorated with balloons and flowers. The procedure was much shorter than usually – actually everything happens faster at war. These days couples can get married easier than ever, there’s no need even for one of the partners to be present, also the ceremony can be held via Zoom. But among all the weddings that I’ve been to or have seen – this one was the most touching. It felt so genuine, so honest, and everyone around, not only the grooms and brides, were so happy. I guess it’s because among all these horrible events you begin to really value such things, and all your positive emotions are doubled in their intensity – because of their doubled preciousness. Also you are truly enjoying the moment – how many times we were told to do that by all those motivational speakers! But here you have no other choice but to enjoy it – as you understand and feel that each next moment your life may end.

The commandment gave to the newlyweds the presents on behalf of the battalion – the multi-cooking devices and pampers for one of the couples (they had a 2-months baby boy). After the ceremony of exchanging rings and signing the documents, we went out of the building to go to the nearby hotel for a little after-party. Before we left, Hlib’s and Misha’s lieutenant approached us and gave them two bags – one with colourful balloons and another with paper ribbons. We decorated Misha’s car with those balloons – and it looked so funny, so full of pure happiness and love, especially among the empty streets, checkpoints and people in military uniform, in this atmosphere of tension and readiness to fight. We saw how all the people smiled when they saw this car passing by them.

The after-party was small, rather short, but very cozy. We ate sandwiches and drank champagne – which was not very legal, as on the territory of Kharkiv region all the alcohol is banned, but somehow Misha managed to get a bottle, and their commandment allowed them to have a drink, as it was the wedding and the guys were officially given days-off. Misha felt a huge regret that they couldn’t celebrate the wedding as it is supposed to be celebrated in his home city – he’s from Ivano-Frankivsk, which is in the West of Ukraine, and where there are plenty of old traditions that are kept very seriously. But we promised him that after the victory we’ll definitely come to his city and celebrate a proper wedding – with a lot of guests, a ceremony in church and all the necessary Ukrainian rituals. And also we of course will come to baptize their future baby.

Actually me and Hlib are kind of engaged too – I made a proposal to him while he was making Molotov cocktails in our bunker on Day 4. But we decided that we want to celebrate our wedding in Crimea – in liberated, Ukrainian Crimea, and that we’ll invite all our friends from all over the world to it

The war has been going on for more than 70 days already, and most of the time my Mom (whose name is Olga too) lives with me. We haven’t spent so much time together since I moved out from my parents home to live with Hlib 6 years ago. And I’m very happy to have her by my side now, especially after Hlib left to join the army. I understood that during the war it’s so important not to stay alone, to have someone who can share with you not only the daily tasks, but also the everyday fight for your own life and mental health. Mom always was a great support for me, and now, in a full-scale war, I felt it even stronger than before. And it’s hard to imagine how I would live through this war if she wasn’t here with me. While I’m working on so many frontlines – informing people globally about our life under Russian shellings, making art, volunteering and also continuing with my regular remote job as a designer – she took most of the daily routine tasks from me, like cooking, doing groceries, taking care of cats, etc. And her efforts allowed me not only to focus on my tasks, but also feel better because I am certain that this part of our life that she’s now controlling will be completely fine. Also, for sure, I can talk to her about different things, we can laugh and cry together, share and discuss news, resolve problems – or just hold each other’s hands or hug each other without saying anything. These simple things that you might not have considered essential in the peaceful times, something that was felt so usual - now you realize how much power they can give. I suppose I will remember it and value it till I die. And I will be so much thankful to my Mother for being there for me – before and today especially.

I’m also really glad that my grandparents don’t stay alone either. They have each other, and they have us, we are in touch every day and visit them at least once a week. I know it’s difficult for them too, but it could be so much worse if they weren’t together, this way they can cope with the situation somehow, and actually I’m very proud of them and about how they manage to cope. My grandmothers Vira and Iryna, each in their own house, began to grow seedlings – peppers, eggplants and tomatoes. They used to do it on their balconies every year, in early spring, to move all the plants to their village gardens then. But this year it’s impossible for them to go there, as there’s constant danger of the shellings even in the «safe» areas of Kharkiv region. Several weeks ago the rocket hit a church in grandma Iryna’s neighbouring village, though it’s quite far away from the frontline. And the village where my grandma Vira and grandpa Serhiy have their house and the garden is occupied by the Russian troops for more than a month already. They don't even know what’s with their house, is it still untouched. Grandma Vira cries every time when thinking about her trees that remain covered with the fabrics that they used to use in winter to protect them from snow and frost. She is afraid that the trees may die because they don’t receive enough air and water through this cover. But despite everything, they do not lose their hope and they are talking about their future work in the garden as if they are going to start it tomorrow already. We keep telling them that they shouldn’t go soon, even after the village is liberated, because there were active fights in that direction, and many roads can be mined. Meanwhile, their balcony gardens grew really tall and rich. A week ago, grandma Iryna had her birthday, and we visited her and her husband, grandpa Eugene, together with Mom, grandma Vira and grandpa Serhiy. It was the first time since New Years Eve when my grandparents met each other again – they are good friends and usually meet quite often, and call each other by phone almost every day. Grandmas discussed their balcony gardens for hours. They decided that they would plant their seedlings in each other’s house yards – grandma Vira would bring her plants to grandma Iryna’s yard, and vice versa, Iryna would bring hers to Vira’s yard. So if they are not able to go to their village gardens, they’ll make for themselves the gardens in the city.

I like their approach, and I like that despite the war and all the atrocities happening, Ukrainians still think and care about nature and the land. It is not only about the elders and their gardens - but also about the country’s sowing campaign that has started even on the temporary occupied territories. And it’s about the city’s parks and gardens, and even about the lawns along the streets – when I see how the city services workers and regular citizens taking care of them, planting the flowers, cutting the grass, tying up the trees, I feel great warmth in my heart. When I see how my homeland, my Motherland, is blooming, turning green, living despite everything, how nature prevails over human destructivity and violence – it brings me hope. And what my grandparents do also inspires me incredibly – how they keep taking care of their little home gardens, how they are discussing their future garden works and their future harvest, having no doubts that they would have a chance to visit their land again soon. «How can we have doubts? That what we used to do always, that what our parents, grandparents and grand-grandparents used to do always, to keep cultivating their land, no matter what’s outside - wars, revolutions, red terror, famine, nuclear disaster or else». That's what they said to me. «How can we do something else than this?». Through them, I myself learn so much about Ukraine and our people.

In Ukraine we don’t celebrate Mother's Day really – we used to greet mothers, like all the women, on March 8th, but it has changed during the recent years. But every Ukrainian has brought through their entire life, since the very childhood, with the language, songs, folklore and literature, the idea of Mother as a main person in human’s life, as the figure of each Mother impersonates the global «Mother-Ukraine» – caring, supporting, generous, and giving its best to her children (and to so many other children whom she treats like her own) no matter what.

There are no shades and semitones during the war – it has only blacks and whites. It magnifies every phenomena or feeling, pushes them to the limit, and thus when we see the examples of love or heroism – we see them in their extreme manifestations, as well as evil, meanness and violence. And all this affects not only humans, but the animals as well. It breaks my heart very much, because, like kids, they are so dependent on us and so vulnerable. At the same time, unfortunately, people often do not treat animals the same way as children. And sometimes they don’t even perceive them as creatures who also have emotions and feel pain, and whose life is as valuable as human’s. That’s why, shamefully, there are so many sad stories about pets who suffered from this war – not only from the hostilities themselves, but from the humans’ cruelty and indifference.

Though I’m still certain that there is much more good around, and for each story of pain and death there are a lot of stories of love, friendship and true kindness. Of people who carry their pets in their arms while going dozens of kilometers by foot from the hostilities areas. Of volunteers who risk their lives evacuating animals from destroyed houses and ransacked farms. Of a fireman pumping out a cat that has breathed gas during a fire. Of a defender of besieged AzovStal plant, who shares his last food with a dog. And many more.

I will never forget how during the first days when Kharkiv was shelled, together with our neighbours we were hiding in the basement - and almost every person had their pets with them. We had around 7 cats, 3 dogs and a parrot then. No one could even imagine leaving them behind. I also remember the empty shelves with the pet food and supplies in every supermarket – in the first turn people were trying to stock everything for their little friends, as much as possible.

But I was happy to know 3 people who did (and still continue doing) a truly heroic job helping the animals. Two of them are the elderly women, neighbours of my Mom and my grandparents, who stayed in the dangerous areas of Saltivka and never left to the safer places, because all this time they were feeding and taking care of the dogs, cats and birds who lived in the yard. Every morning and evening Nadia and Alla were cooking a lot of porridge with meat or fish – because it was sometimes impossible to get proper pet food, and of course they couldn’t afford a lot of this food for their pension money – and went to feed dozens of animals near their houses. Alla takes care of six newborn kittens now. Nadia has a friend one-legged pigeon, who comes to her every day and takes food from her hand.

But the most heroic person that I have a pleasure to know – is Oxana, who owns a house next door to my grandparents’ Iryna and Eugene village house. I've only met her a year ago, but they have been friends with my grandparents for more than 5 years already. Before the full-scale war started, she already had sort of a private pet shelter in her house – she rescued cats and dogs from the streets, treated them, sterilized and tried to find new homes for them, but those for whom he couldn’t find a home used to stay with her. Last year she had around 30 cats and 10 dogs. She used to work remotely as an estate agent, so she could afford all the expenses, and her house and an adjoining territory was big enough – and it was just among nature, so all the pets enjoyed freedom and active life there. And they were really happy there. After the start of the invasion Oxana began to rescue pets all around Kharkiv. The village where she lives wasn’t affected by war much – it’s in the south from Kharkiv, and it wasn’t occupied, just some villages nearby were shelled a bit. But everyday she drove her car to the most dangerous areas of Kharkiv and its surroundings, reacting to the messages about pets in trouble or just passing by the streets, alone or together with her friend who also owns a shelter in another village. One of her friends volunteers was killed by the missile in North Saltivka, he had around ten cats in his place, so Oxana had to get somehow into this area when the shellings were the most intense, she risked her life to rescue those cats, but unfortunately she couldn’t rescue all of them. Many pets that she rescues are in a very bad condition, and it was a true challenge to treat them all properly during the first weeks, as many vet doctors have left and there was a real shortage of medicines, especially vaccines. Now the situation got better, but the problem of money remains most crucial for her, as she can’t work now, the only person who is able to work in her family is her daughter, she is a vet doctor in Lviv. Oxana raises donations among her friends on Facebook, and there she posts the reports and photos of the shelter. She works alone in the shelter – only two weeks ago a man who evacuated from the occupied village in Kharkiv region joined her, she gave him accommodation and food and he helps her to take care of pets. So far more than 100 pets are staying in Oxana’s shelter – cats, dogs, puppies, kittens. Oxana begins her work at 4 am and comes back home late at night, so she barely has any time for social media, that’s why she still doesn’t have Instagram.

My Mom and I are trying to help Oxana as much as we can – for now unfortunately only financially. And I’m using my social resource to share the info about her shelter and to raise some donations for her. For the money that people send her she buys food, medicine and other supplies, pays for the vet services and also gasoline, with which we now have real problems in Ukraine – it got much more expensive and there’s a huge shortage of it in the whole country. That’s why it is so important to continue supporting Oxana, because all these needs are permanent. We are trying now to connect with international volunteers who may help to move the pets abroad so that they can be adopted there. It was impossible during these two and a half months, as it is quite far from the EU border and it was very dangerous in Kharkiv. But now, as our army managed to throw the Russians away from the city and heavy shellings have finally stopped, we hope that we’ll be able to manage it somehow and soon all the pets will find new homes.

In the beginning of May I decided to leave Ukraine. On 18th of May my mother, cats and I started our journey from Kharkiv to the west. On 22d of May we arrived in Graz.

3 weeks ago I left Kharkiv and Ukraine and arrived in Graz. Bit by bit, with Mom and my two cats Mabel and Zucchini, we are settling down here and starting our new life.

All this time I was hoping that I would stay in Kharkiv till the very end, till our victory, my biggest wish was to greet my friends coming back home from abroad and from the other cities of Ukraine on our city’s main square where we’d then celebrate the victory together. But at war you shouldn’t make any plans or predictions – everything may turn around in a blink of an eye, even the things that you thought wouldn’t ever change.

We and Hlib broke up and it was something that threw me off track. There were so many reasons for that – and at the same time no particular reason at all. I guess the war does change people much, and also it highlights their both best and worst features, and makes them very prominent. And thus, for every story of a great all-conquering love there is a story of a painful break up, similarly as for every example of a true heroism there is an example of a stunning betrayal and cowardice. War pushes everything to the limit.

Anyway that moment I felt as a big punch at my stomach, kicking out from me all those vital resources that were still left. I understood that I need to change the environment to restore them, to regain my powers and continue my fight, that’s why I decided to leave Kharkiv and Ukraine and go to Austria. I felt so strange and so sad about this departure – that I was actually running not from the immediate and inevitable danger, that I was fleeing while many people were already coming back to Kharkiv. That days Kharkiv really seemed to have become a safer place, because the Russians were thrown away from the nearby areas, in some places even to the very country’s border – and so that the intensity of the shellings at some neighbourhoods, like Saltivka where my Mom lived, became much lower. It was weird that we stayed in Kharkiv during its most dangerous days, but then left when the danger seemed to have passed. Though very soon we found out that the danger never became smaller – the Russians continued bombing our city, they were just doing it from more long-range artillery. One day, after we have already left, there was an air strike to a vibrant neighbourhood – 9 people were killed, among them a family with a baby who have just recently returned to Kharkiv from the evacuation. And the authorities are warning all the time that the danger is still there. But I guess people just want to come back home so much – and also they don’t want to continue being refugees anymore – that they are ready to take this risk. Though I thought then that staying under the constant shellings won’t do anything good to my harmed mental condition, while I would be more useful and valuable for my country alive and healthy. And what also made me feel a bit better is the understanding that I have already done quite a lot in terms of providing people around the world a true information from the first hands about the war in my city and country. And that maybe in Europe I can still work as a certain ambassador, advocate of my Ukraine and Ukrainian culture, but this time in person, not online. That work might be good for my mental healing too.

I chose Austria and Graz because I knew that there are so many people, my friends, who have been there for me since the very beginning of the full-scale war. I was certain that they would help me, and what was also important is that I would have people to talk and to share my feelings with and of course to receive support. Also I have been to Graz 3 years ago as artist-in-residence in <rotor> association for contemporary art, so this city wasn’t something new and unfamiliar to me.

Mom agreed to come with me – she never stopped supporting me, and in these difficult times I felt again how valuable and important her support is for me. Unlike many of Ukrainians, we were lucky to have had time to pack all the necessary stuff and finish with all unresolved issues. Mom’s cats stayed with my grandparents – and we asked our friends to look after grandmas and grandpas and to take care of them. Though the shellings are continuing, the area where they live is still quite safe, but we keep in touch with them every day and check if everything is fine. We came with only two cats, because our car was small and all four cats wouldn’t fit in it, especially with all those bags and boxes that we wanted to bring with us.

Our road from Kharkiv to Graz took exactly 4 days, with night stops in Kyiv, Lviv and Krakow. On every stage many friends helped us, and that was really amazing, we felt again so much warmth and love that days. Arriving at a safe place, where there is no permanent danger of being killed in the air, feels very unusual. I understood that I don’t even remember what life used to be before the war. I couldn’t remember the atmosphere of peace and calmness, when you are able to make your daily routines and small pleasant things like morning jogging in the park or a cup of coffee in the park. When we were spending the night in Krakow, we stayed in a hotel near the airport – and the sounds of the planes landing and taking off made us shudder each time. And on our first day in Graz we heard a siren – it turned out to be a fire alarm, but my immediate thoughts then were «run to the shelter, now» and «we cannot escape it, it caught up with us even here». I started having dreams at night - mostly nightmares in which I run and hide again. When I wake up each time I remind myself that now I’m in a safe place, and that the Russians won’t get me here. Still, after 3 weeks, when walking in the parks and streets, doing groceries, meeting with friends, I feel like I’m cautiously waiting for something, listening to the air, unconsciously checking notifications on my phone. «Relax, it won’t fly here, it won’t strike you here», I say to myself again and again. But the most scary thing was a thunderstorm. I guess it will take a long time to get rid of those effects caused by the war.

What are the plans, people often ask me. Well, as I said before, I learned that it’s quite useless to make any plans these days, at least further than for 1-2 months forward. For now I know that I will stay in Graz at least by the end of the year. Mom wants to come back earlier, when it gets more quiet in Kharkiv, so she could launch her business there again and take care of grandparents and cats. I am making myself busy with different art projects and really looking forward to what this new period of my life brings me. But for sure I hope to come back to Ukraine, sooner or later. When we celebrate our victory, there will be so much work for all of us to do

Are Ukrainians angry at Europe?

During the recent month, especially after the leaders of France, Germany, Italy and Romania have visited Kyiv, many people from European countries asked me: why is there so many hateful comments from Ukrainians about our leaders in the social media? Aren’t these countries helping you, aren’t they supporting you all this time? And from my side I understand why this kind of a reaction from Ukrainians may seem strange or even rude for the people outside Ukraine. So let me try to clarify some things.

We, Ukrainians do not hate Europe, European countries and European people. We don’t hate at all actually. The only country we hate is Russia (and Belarus a bit, because their regime helps Russia in attacking Ukraine).

But we do feel outrage about some European politicians and some representatives of «intellectual elite». Because they still SERIOUSLY propose Ukraine to give up its territories to «save Putin’s face and end the war». They seem to consider these «territories» only as pieces of land, with no people on them, while for Ukraine its people are the most important, we care about each living soul and won’t just sacrifice them to Russia. They seriously say «weapon is bad and we shouldn’t give Ukraine any more weapons, because it makes the war last longer». Because they simply don’t hear us when we try to explain our perspective – they think that they know things better. What they do is westsplaining and truly colonial rhetoric.

It’s no exaggeration, I constantly hear these stories from my colleagues from the cultural field. One of my colleagues, for example, curated a show in Italy and had to explain each time why Ukrainians cannot (and won’t!) give up to the visitors. She also tried to make a show of Ukrainian art in Hague and the gallery refused because the show was «too political» for them. And there are a lot more stories like this.

The same with the politicians – we just can’t get it how people can seriously push us to negotiate and make concessions to Russia after everything what Russia has done to us, after the entire world saw Bucha, Irpin, Borodianka. And we can only imagine now what can be seen in Mariupol, Kherson and on other occupied territories. After the most recent horrible crime in the mall of Kremenchuk many people and even organizations have changed their approach a bit, they have made clear statements against Russia and some of them were very strict. But still some refuse to stop talking to Putin, even when they see that those talks don’t lead to anything. In those moments we are afraid that it may repeat once again – the situation when Ukraine is just a pawn in a game of big countries, and that some agreements would be made behind our back, so that we’d be pushed to sacrifice our freedom for «more important things».

But we do feel endless gratitude towards the European governments and people who help us so much, who truly support us – and who don’t just make empty promises or try to explain to us how we should do this and that because «they know it better». And I see that there are many more supporting people. Unfortunately, there are still unsupportive people in power. But what’s great about democracy is that people can influence and change things.

Women at war

Women at war is usually quite a difficult topic. The history of all wars so far were written by men, and women mostly played secondary roles in it – and unfortunately mostly the roles of innocent victims of horrible atrocities. It is still relevant for Ukraine’s war against Russia as well - there is a lot of evidence of obviously gender-based crimes committed by the Russian soldiers on every territory where they happen to appear. Violence against women became a form of demonstration of power, the kind of patriarchal imperialistic power that «the conquistador» wants to establish over the «colonized» nation.

Though in this war the world could clearly see some other examples of the roles that women can play. Not the role of a victim, and not a secondary role of waiting or mourning mother/wife/daughter of a soldier. But the very role of a warrior, who bravely fights alongside men at every frontier. I would say that Ukraine’s war against Russia is a pure example of a war against toxic masculinity and that imperial patriarchy which is long overdue for the dustbin of history (just look at putin himself, he’s a perfect embodiment of this).

For example, the Ukrainian military serves more than 30,000 women – which is more than in any NATO army (in percentage). Also there are many LGBTQA+ people in the Armed Forces and on the other frontiers, let’s not forget about it, day by day they become more visible and recognized!

Besides that, thousands of women are volunteering in different spheres, risking their lives to deliver humanitarian aid, rescuing people and animals, weaving camouflage nets, cooking for the military and civilians, helping cleaning the cities, etc etc. Also they continue working on their regular jobs, if it’s possible, to keep the country’s economy functioning and to earn money that they could donate right away to the volunteers.

Many women went abroad not only for their own safety and to protect their families, but to become ambassadors of Ukrainian arts, culture, science, etc in different exhibitions, forums and festivals (pretty much what me and my friends and colleagues are doing now). To make the world hear your voice it’s always more effective to be able to speak directly, being present physically on the spot, not just in a window of an online zoom call. That’s why many female artists and cultural workers are now speaking out abroad not only for themselves, but for their male colleagues too, because men cannot leave the country without a special permission, and also many male artists, scientists, poets and musicians are now in the army. I personally feel that female voices from Ukraine sound now worldwide stronger than they ever did before.

Women who do all this stuff – and those who don’t (because they are exhausted, or feel that they don’t have any resources of doing it, or simply are busy trying to survive, protect their family and not to go insane) – are visible and recognized in Ukraine. I can hear it in the language, in how authorities speak about women at war, and can see it in the representation of women at war in local media. It is becoming a common knowledge that women are equal to the men in this fight – all in all we are all equal in our desire to win and survive as a nation.

Of course there’s still a lot of work to do and a lot of problems – in the system and in society – but I feel that it is improving every day, feel these steps towards gender equality, though they may be very small. Though even those small steps already show how different we and our enemies are. While our women are fighting and working hard for the victory wherever it is possible – Russian women think only about the financial compensation they will get when their men are killed in Ukraine (not only because of the poverty and greed, but also because those men usually treat them like shit). Ukraine ratified the Istanbul convention against gender violence – even though it should have ratified it years ago, but better late than never – while in Russia gender violence is lawfully not even a crime. And many other examples. Simply worth taking a look on how their propaganda shows this war and any other wars – it’s an endless waterfall of testosterone and alfa-machism where any presence of something «feminine» means «weakness» and makes them react like vampires to a crucifix.

That’s why Ukraine will win – because it is all about the future. And I believe that very soon this ugly imperialistic monster that Russia is now will soon be wiped out by the waves of history, together with all those patriarchal beliefs, inequalities and injustice.

The darkest hour before the sunrise

At the end of September together with my Mom we decided to go to Kharkiv for a week or two. The main purpose was to visit my grandparents, but not just to see them – in our car we had an electric generator, a heater and several electric blankets. All these we had to buy in Graz, because it was almost impossible to buy them in Ukraine by that time already – all Ukrainians were preparing for the winter, which promised to be cold and dark. Then the massive russian air strikes at the critical infrastructure, causing electricity cut-offs in a whole country, haven’t started yet (the first of them, and the most horrifying since February 24th happened in early October, after Mom and I had already returned to Austria). But it was clear that Russia’s next step would be to threaten Ukraine with the prospect of a total blackout. Most of the country didn’t actually try to save energy before – in Western cities, such as Lviv and Ivano-Frankivsk, and even in Kyiv, the streets were illuminated (not as much as usual, but still), and the citizens didn’t switch off the lights in their flats in the evening. It wasn’t like this in Kharkiv – I remember us spending nights by candlelights, covering the windows in our apartment with blankets so that even a slightest bit of that light couldn’t be seen from the outside. And of course all the street illumination was off. In spring it was really crucial, because of the enemy’s aviation that could take aim at the city lights. There were even saboteurs who installed luminous targets on the roofs of the buildings – at the beginning of the war we were very alerted about them and men were patrolling the surroundings for anything or anyone suspicious. 

But only in late September, when we came to visit grandparents in Kharkiv, I realized that we have never seen the city in the dark since 24th of February – before May, when we left Ukraine, the curfew started quite early, at about 6 pm, and we always tried to come back home before sunset. Now the curfew in Kharkiv starts at 10 pm, so you can walk and drive around the city at night – but the city lights are still off. And for the person that is used to living in urban environments it is hard to even imagine that any place can get THAT dark. It was really creepy to drive through Kharkiv and see it like that, covered with the dense, impenetrable darkness, in which even the places you know by heart become unrecognizable. Kharkiv looked like a ghost. And I felt like I was in a computer game, where some parts of the location just haven't been loaded. We could only navigate with your car lights and reflective road signs, and it was quite dangerous, because you barely see the obstacles ahead (especially considering the fact that there are still many concrete remains of checkpoints all over the streets – soldiers don’t have duties on them anymore, but they weren’t removed either). And the most dangerous are the pedestrians whom you also see crossing the road at the very last moment. There is a dramatic increase of car accidents in Ukraine for that reason these days.

But there is one really amazing and unexpectedly beautiful thing about seeing your city, previously shining with all kinds of illumination like a standard 21st century megapolis, in this complete darkness. It was the first time I saw stars so bright in the Kharkiv night sky, and the first time I clearly saw the Milky Way above my city. Before, to see it, you needed to go far away, into the fields, where the sky is not so polluted with light. But today you can watch the stars in the very center of the city, like in a huge open air observatory. And I must admit, this was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life – and I found it not somewhere else, in some exotic place at the edge of the world, but in the city where I was born and where I lived my whole life.  

We returned to Graz long before Ukraine started electricity cut-offs to reduce tension for the energetic infrastructure, so I mostly know about it from the experience of my grandparents and friends who stayed. There was a schedule issued by Kharkiv city council – in it you can see the exact time when the electricity, heating and water supply will be turned off in your house. There are several hours of blackout per day usually, people prepare reserves of technical and drinkable water, candles and lots of power banks and batteries. Those who have generators share them with neighbors, like my grandparents do now. To entertain themselves during hours without electricity people read books and play board games. At the same time, people were asked to reduce the energy supply in any case, if they are able to, and those who left the country were asked to stay abroad and not to return in winter, so that the infrastructure is not overloaded.

Yes, there’s a lot of fear about winter among Ukrainians for sure. It’s completely uncertain, how tough it will be and how Ukraine will survive these frosty months, especially if the Russian attacks on our energy system continue. But I see in the eyes, hear in the voices of my co-citizens only determination – they are ready for this fight, they are ready to go to victory through cold and darkness, but not to surrender. Because «Russian peace» for Ukraine is way more scary - and way more deadly. 

The city of plywood windows

This is the best phrase to describe Kharkiv right now. Windows that were smashed with the explosions are being replaced with plywood sheets, they have a very specific warm orange color, it especially stands out against the white and gray walls of panel houses neighborhoods. Some people buy and install these sheets by themselves, but usually you can send a request to your neighborhood’s service center and they will eventually send a team of professionals with all necessary materials to install them in your flat for free. In the neighborhoods like Saltivka where my Mom and I have our flat (but we didn’t live in it during our first months of war, Mom joined me in my rented flat in the city center which wasn’t bombed so actively that time) – almost all the windows are now plywood. In our house half of the windows were gone, we were lucky that in our flat we had only one window damaged by the explosion wave – my grandfather temporarily fixed it with a film. When we’re back, we will put a new window there, a real one. Saltivka yards, usually bustling with voices of children having fun at the playgrounds and adults busy with their daily stuff, now are quiet, with the only sound among this silence – the rhythmic sounds of hammers applying plywood sheets to the windows. And the smell of wood everywhere.

Life returns to the neighborhoods bit by bit. Although it is still unusual to see so few cars and so few people – compared to the pre-war times – on the streets of Kharkiv. Several of our relatives’ and friends’ families have returned to the city, and my grandma said that in their section of the house almost all the neighbors have come back as well – during the first months, my grandparents and 3-4 people, all older than 60, were the only people there. When you walk around the city, especially in these neighborhoods far from the center, and especially those that were damaged the most – you get really surprised that almost all the businesses have reopened. Business owners are back to work, and their clients are happy to buy something from them, to visit familiar places – it brings them a feeling that life goes back to normal. Though they understand that nothing will ever be the same, and even the things that look like from the pre-war times have changed forever (and I mean not just the prices that got at least 25% higher). Supermarkets, small shops, cafes and restaurants, pharmacies, coffee-to-go kiosks… Some of them don’t look like they are working – most of their windows and vitrines are covered with plywood too, and the lights are off because of the blackout. But they always have a small, often handwritten sign on the door «We are open» which makes you understand that there’s life inside, though you may not see it. And it is a very interesting phenomenon. Kharkiv is alive, actually it is even as bustling as before – but it is all hidden behind the plywood windows. 

Still a lot of things are happening outside as well. With the frequent electricity cut-offs people started going outside more often. One barista whom I met in the park near the river – he owned a coffee truck – told me that during the last massive blackout he had so many clients that he got 1-week profit just in 1 working day. I also noticed more people riding bikes in the city – because of the reduced number of cars – with my friend we were joking: «Finally Kharkiv became bike-friendly!». Still there is public transport on the streets – mostly buses, because the infrastructure for trams and trolleybuses was badly damaged. And of course metro – it finished the mission of being an underground shelter and fully switched to its main function. Though three last stations on the blue line - those located in Saltivka district – remained closed for quite a long time, many people continued living there. In the last week of September they were reopened too – but you still could see some mattresses and blankets left on the stairs. 
It is interesting to watch how the map of Kharkiv city sites has changed after the beginning of the war. To the list of the usual must-see places were added the most heavily damaged buildings and areas. Kharkiv citizens in the first turn visit them like they would visit a museum or a park. They come to the main square and take photos in front of the Regional Administration building which was hit by the Russian rocket in early March, walk along the streets of the city center and around Saltivka neighborhood yards. They show these sites to the city guests and journalists with kind of a pride, enthusiastically telling the stories about where they themselves were when this and that air strike happened, what they heard and saw, what they felt. People of Kharkiv understand that their experience made them a part of truly historical events, something so big that it’s changing the whole reality right now. And they want to share this experience and to capture these memories for the future. But also – to remember forever everything what the enemy has done to their homes, to their city and to their lives.

One-year-long February

I remember last winter, full of anxiety and premonition of an approaching threat. Hardly anyone knew what to do in case of the invasion. Most of us didn’t believe that it could actually happen, not in our progressive times, not in the center of Europe. It was something our grandparents used to tell us about - scary stories from the past that have nothing to do with us nowadays. But then the 24th of February came. 

I remember queuing to the supermarket that morning. We wanted to get groceries for at least 2 weeks, because we believed that soon we wouldn’t be able to buy anything. People around weren’t in panic, just very confused. Everyone looked like they were waiting for the announcement that it was all just a bad joke or some misunderstanding. No one knew what to expect – the war, what would it be like? For how long we’ll be able to resist, and what would happen if we were defeated? Actually, what would happen if we prevail was just as uncertain. 

I remember the moment when hiding in the basement, face to face with the unknown, me, my friends and neighbors suddenly realized that Ukraine could not just survive, but win. It was when the news from Zmiiniy (Snake) Island came, and for the first time we learned the words one of the island’s defenders said to the russians who offered them to surrender – «Russian warship, go fuck yourself!». No surprise that this phrase immediately became legendary, it was all about what each of us was feeling at that time – «We want to live on our own, we don’t want to be told what to do, and this time we are not going to remain silent, this time we are going to fight». I think it was this passion – even an audacity – for life and freedom that shocked not only the Russians, but the rest of the world too.

I believe that after 1 year it continues to shock – and to inspire many, not just this passion, but also the long-term determination with which Ukraine is still fighting. You can see the photos or news reports, but you can actually feel what it’s like only if you come to Ukraine, to Kharkiv. Here you will see how life itself, in its every aspect, becomes a form of resistance, a way to laugh at the enemy’s face and tell them to go «follow the Russian warship». This is what my Kharkiv does – being so close to Russia, it laughs at its face with rage and some very special pleasure, demonstrating how full of life it is, despite all the attempts to destroy and demoralize it.  

All over the city there are billboards with the words «Kharkiv is living and working». The roadsides on which those billboards are standing are insanely clean – the city services work with full dedication. Kharkiv was always proud of its clean streets. Workers routinely clear the debris after another rocket strike, fix the damaged electricity systems, tidy up flower beds – all the time extremely concentrated and determined, as if they were saying to the enemy: «You can do whatever you bastard want, but you will never make me stop doing my job». These people don’t consider themselves heroes, but for all the city’s inhabitants they really are. In some sense they all keep Kharkiv's heart beating. 

The sound of this heartbeat is mostly the buzz of working generators and the knock of hammers nailing wooden sheets in place of the windows. But also many other noises and voices join bit by bit – people are slowly coming back to their apartments and offices. My grandparents told me that at least two flats were bought in their house and new owners started renovations in them. Already at some point you may find yourself stuck in a traffic jam, like in good old times! Now it’s not only Kharkiv citizens who are returning – people who lost their homes in Donbas are coming to Kharkiv to find new homes there. So the real estate market that fell down when the war started began to slowly grow again. Though people’s preferences about the property have changed completely. «Not a panel house, far from any infrastructure objects, with a bomb shelter within 5 mins walk» – this is the description of a dream flat in Kharkiv today.          

Shops and commercial centers, cafes and cinemas, clubs and concert halls - reopen again, because people demand some fun! My mother went to see the new «Avatar» movie, but the air raid canceled the screening 5 minutes from the start. She went to another cinema, where there was another air raid, but this one didn’t force people to come out, so she could watch the movie till the end. And I went to the skating rink that I used to visit often – originally an ice skating rink, but the ice required too much electricity to maintain, so it became a rollerdrome. Though people still can practice ice skating – on frozen lakes and ponds. Together with the ice fishermen, those skaters make the scenery look like Pieter Bruegel’s paintings, weird and picturesque at the same time.

Art, theater and music in Kharkiv these days went underground, but literally – to the metro, to the bunker gallery and basement clubs. The fun is limited only by the curfew (but people just move to someone’s home party and stay there overnight) and by the electricity cut-offs (but everyone just turns on the flashlights on their smartphones and the musicians switch to the acoustics or a-capella). At the parties and concerts you may now notice a lot of people in military uniforms, often the artists, performers and musicians wear camouflage too. Sometimes those events are their only short moments «in the rear». And this understanding – that each of them, those who are performing and those who are watching, may not make it to the next event – fills every moment with the incredible passion for life.   

By the 24th of February 2023 Kharkiv is again being threatened with another massive Russian offensive. Sure, this news brings some anxiety, and people are afraid – still afraid - to lose their homes, families and friends, their own lives. But compared to February 2022, this time Kharkiv is way more angry and way more prepared. There, life became fight and fight became life, for everyone – soldiers, volunteers, artists, city service workers, older people and youngsters. And I have no doubt that they will prevail, that the Ukrainian Army will defend us and every civilian will do their best to help. Even though there are so many hard days full of threats and challenges ahead. Kharkiv is ready for them. It had a whole 365 days of full-scale resistance practice, after all.

The price we pay. In memory of Anton Derbilov

When I visited Lviv in the beginning of April, together with my friend we came to a cafe for breakfast. Everything around was so peaceful, so casual, like nothing has changed since I have been here before the war and even before pandemic. Warm atmosphere, lounge music and the rooms full of relaxed people just having their morning coffee and chatting. But suddenly I noticed some movement among the cafe’s employees. They all left their workplaces and approached the front door. The music stopped playing, the space dove in a complete silence. Visitors interrupted their talks and turned their heads to the door too. On the street outside several black cars slowly passed by. A few buses followed them, we saw they were filled with people in the military uniform. It was a soldier’s funeral procession. No sound came out until the last vehicle was gone from the sight. It felt like the life itself has stopped respectfully. After a few minutes the music resumed, employees continued working and visitors returned to their meals and chats. Everything was back to normal. 

Later I asked the barista if they had to stop often because of the funerals, she answered that at least twice every single day.

My friend lives in the center of Lviv, near the ancient chapel. In any other times he would be happy to live there – old house, vibrant place, amazing view, but now he is desperately looking for another apartment, even despite this one was very much affordable. The thing is that every day there are funeral services in this chapel. One by one, another fallen hero, sometimes several of them, farewelled by mourning parents, spouses, children, friends and comrades. Every single day my friend saw them through his window. At some point he just understood that he couldn’t handle it emotionally anymore. 

«When the endless funerals become your only window view, you realize how many people – young, strong, beautiful! – we actually lose in this war», he said.

My other friend lived just in front of the cemetery, the part of it that was devoted exclusively to the soldiers who died in the battles against russia. He lived there for a long time, and in 2014 he watched the first funerals and first graves appearing there. But since 24.02.2022, the number of graves increased enormously, it turned out that every time my friend looked through his window he saw a new grave with a blue-yellow flag on the top – that’s how the graves of the fallen heroes are usually decorated. Soon the whole forest of flags grew there. And also there wasn’t a single day without funerals, without mourning crowds, half dressed black, half wearing military. Recently my friend lowered the curtains on his window and never raised them again. 

Every day Ukraine pays the highest price for its freedom. Men and women, who had enough energy, passion and will to live, work, love – have to die defending our country instead. At least half of Ukrainians now have someone they knew who were killed at war as soldiers, paramedics, volunteers or other army service people. Not mentioning even the victims of russian air strikes and atrocities committed on the occupied territories. And every time it is so devastating – no matter how close you were – to read or hear about another man or woman gone forever, you just refuse to believe it. 

Why? Just why? Why russia take them from us, who gave them this right at all? 

On 7th of April entire Kharkiv cultural community was shocked with the horrible news – the day before Anton Derbilov, our friend and colleague, artist, sculptor, musician, husband, father of 3 daughters passed away in the battle for the liberation of Kreminna, Luhansk region. Before the full-scale invasion he used to create historical miniature sculpture and play in locally and nationally famous band «Alcohol Ukulele». On 24.02.2022 he took up arms to defend his city and country, during the first 100 days he participated in the battles for Kharkiv as a territorial defense member, then he joined National Guard troops. He used to write about his daily life in the army on Facebook often, took part in several documentaries and TV reports, and all the time he smiled, joked and stayed positive, no matter how hard the circumstances were for him and his unit. He posted his last photo 2 days before it happened. Smiling as usual. He was only 43 years old.

It is hard to find words. I still refuse to believe in it. I still refuse to accept the fact that the longer the war lasts the more people will die, and the death will get closer and closer, one by one it will take my acquaintances, my colleagues, my friends. I refuse to get get used to all those losses. But eventually we all will have to. We all will lose someone in this war, we all will have someone taken from us by Russia. 

But it will never make us surrender. Our anger only grows with every next loss. In memoriam of every fallen hero, Ukraine will fight. In memory of Anton Derbilov, Ukraine will win.

Please pray for them, so that they rest in peace. Please pray for those who are still alive, so that all of them can witness the victory.

Who are we now?

More than a year of the full-scale war. And more than a year since we’ve discovered a true face of the russian army when Bucha, Irpin, Borodianka and other towns were de-occupied. Ukraine survived the darkest autumn and winter. The spring has come, light and warmth have come back to Ukrainian cities too. So many things happened, could be enough events for the entire human life. Those of us who were lucky enough to make it to this point are not the same as before. But who we are now? 

We are those who unlearned to make plans for further than one month ahead. So many plans were ruined in a single moment of February 24th, so many people had their lives completely turned over. We found ourselves in the places where we never imagined we would go, doing things we never imagined we would do. Trying to predict or pre-arrange the future just doesn’t work. You can’t buy, renovate or furnish your house because you can’t tell for sure that the russian rocket won’t destroy it tomorrow, even if you live in the western part of Ukraine. You can’t get close to a person because tomorrow they may leave to another place or be killed – or the same may happen to you. You can’t have any long-term money savings or make any large investments because tomorrow you may need those money to purchase an electric generator, a vehicle for your friend on the frontline, or for an emergency evacuation. This brings only a feeling of complete insecurity and frustration. But at the same time, it can be just opposite – when planning became useless, when every next day can be your last one, so why limit yourself in this life at all? I see people in Ukraine literally living their best moments right now: getting married, becoming parents, adopting pets, doing renovations in the flats and buying stuff they’ve always dreamed about, even if they have to put their last money in it, engaging in activities they’ve used to put aside, implementing ideas they’ve used to postpone. These days in Kharkiv every concert, exhibition or any other public event – is always «sold out», the commercial centers are crowded, and restaurants rarely have empty tables. Life feels so much ambivalent in Ukraine and especially in Kharkiv – frozen in frustration and uncertainty, and at the same time bustling with energy, living on the highest speeds to catch every possible moment, to take everything from this extremely fragile and short life.

We are those who don’t take anything for granted anymore and are happy about the smallest things. I don’t remember people happier than the citizens of Kharkiv when the first city lights were switched on again on its streets after a year of a full blackout. Those poorly lit roads – on which we would complain to the city council before the war! - feel hundred times brighter than the Times Square. And the pleasure of having a long, hot bath in your apartment after days without any water supply feels hundred times better than at the most luxury spa resort. Also recently my Mom almost cried from happiness when for the first time she stuck in a traffic jam in Kharkiv – which would of course annoy her very much before the war - because it meant that the city was coming back to life. 

We are those who are forever traumatized. All our talks eventually bring us to the topic of war, evacuation, occupation, bombings and atrocities. When I tell people abroad about anything that I know, about any part of my life or about any person – it all ends with words «And after the invasion he/she/it/they…». Talking about my own pre-war life feels like talking about the life of another person, something from a different reality. Even when we don’t talk at all – our silence is also about the war. It is quite comfortable when you are with other people from Ukraine, but very awkward with the foreigners. At these moments we can clearly see our trauma that stands between us Ukrainians and everyone else like a wall. It is possible to break through it, we genuinely try, but it is very difficult and often even painful.

And at last, we are those who accepted that life is never going to be the same. In winter, when I helped my Mom to move back to Kharkiv from Graz, we went to the city’s north-eastern border, the point where Kharkiv met the first invaders on 24.02.2022, the place of the hardest battles. Before the war we used to go through that place on our way to my grandparents’ village house, and we remembered the sign at the entrance to the city – huge letters made of fittings and metal sheets, forming the word «Kharkiv». It was heavily damaged with enemy’s fire, metal became charred, some letters were completely gone. Near it there was a checkpoint where several soldiers were on duty. I approached them and asked if I could take a photo of the stele, one of the soldiers stood up to guide me there, because still this area was quite dangerous to go alone. When we came closer to the stele and I saw the scale of destruction, my body started shaking heavily and eyes filled with tears. The soldier comforted me with a slight hug, he offered to take photo of me in front of the stele, «In memory», he said. I answered that I’d rather never had this kind of memories. The soldier sighed

«What can we do. That’s who we are now. That’s our memory», he said with a gentle smile.

No matter what, our gardens must grow

What has become another true tragedy for Ukrainians during this full-scale war is losing access to the hundreds of square kilometers of the land for gardens, orchards and fields. Ukraine has always had an exceptionally fertile soil – «chornozem» or a «black soil» – it is said that you can put a stick in it and soon this stick will blossom. There’s a well-known story about Nazis taking wagons loaded with Ukrainian chornozem to Germany during the occupation. Another famous fact is that Ukraine used to supply half of the globe with its agricultural products, like grain, for many decades. 

No surprise that there have been lots of people in Ukraine who grew up dealing with the soil and knew everything about it, passing through generations their knowledge and skill of working on the land. And of course they passed an entire specific culture, based on love and respect to nature – but most importantly, the sense of belonging and strong will to protect and develop this small piece of land you are rooted to.

My grandparents Vira and Serhiy originated from the typical Eastern Ukrainian families – born in the small villages where everyone worked either with plants or with animals, they were the first generation who went to live in the big city. But they always tried not to lose their connection to the soil, though only 13 years ago they managed to buy their very own piece of land in the village 1 hour drive from Kharkiv. They had a small house and a huge territory for gardening there, also their gates were facing the farm field. There they fulfilled their passion for planting, growing and harvesting. Honestly, my grandma Vira has always had «a green thumb» – even the dead flowers could blossom again in her hands. And grandpa Serhiy with his engineer's mindset arranged all the infrastructure so that his wife could apply her «magic» in the most effective way. Needless to say that they have put a lot of effort in their village house – «dacha» – during these years. It was hard work, but they were always so excited when spring came and they were able to go there again. Every year in August-September they would bring us kilos of fresh tomatoes, paprikas, cucumbers and berries, which were the tastiest ever. They would conserve the veggies, freeze the berries and make fruit jams - so that the family could have some delicious vitamins throughout the winter. Sometimes they had such rich harvests that they would send extra vegetables and fruits to their friends, and several times my grandpa even went to sell them on the local market. I’ve never seen a person happier than my grandma showing everyone her flowers and trees and simply talking about new kinds of roses she planned to plant next year.

In 2022 Russia invaded Ukraine and the area where my grandparents had their house and the garden was occupied. Luckily, the territory where all «dachas» were located is a bit far from the main village, there is no fine road there and no infrastructure that would catch occupiers’ attention. That means that no russian soldiers ever came there, but the area was completely cut off from civilization, with no electricity and thus no chance to pump the drinkable water from the wells. And of course – with no access for the people from the outside and to break out for those who stayed in their dachas for winter. It was spring, the time when my grandparents would usually go to their dacha and start working in the garden – but that spring it became impossible, so they were very upset.

Although the area was liberated in early May 2022, the inhabitants were strongly advised not to go there, because the land could be mined and the battles were still ongoing nearby. Only next spring, in April 2023, my grandparents finally managed to go and see their village house and a garden. What they saw there was truly devastating. The wild weed covered what used to be neat vegetable beds, it was so tall that it almost reached the chest height. Also the fruits like cherries, plums and apples, that fell down to the ground from the trees last summer and have never been collected – grew to the new small trees all over the garden, in the places where they obviously weren’t supposed to be. The saddest thing was that before the invasion, when the dacha season was about to end, as always, my grandpa wrapped the trees and bushes in the fabrics, to protect them from the cold and wild rabbits. There was no one who could unwrap them in spring, so the plants remained covered for more than a year. Unfortunately, many died. Others grew the new branches – some of them could break through the wrap, but some had to develop inside it in a very tight space, so that they deformed and were now looking like creepy crooked branches of the trees in a dark haunted forest. On the field in front of the gates were dry and dead sunflowers - they remained there since the season of 2021, because no one could reach the field during the occupation to remove them and clean the soil. 

Of course before grandparents could come, the area was checked for mines – but mostly the living areas, for example the fields weren’t. And actually the fact that the area was cleared couldn’t guarantee that the mines would not appear there. Recently it’s been reported that there were cases in the Kharkiv region when the crows and magpies picked small «petal» mines from the ground because they were attracted by their metal gloss, carried them for kilometers and dropped them in another areas, even those that were considered completely safe.

My grandparents have been working in their garden again for more than two months already, trying to restore what was ruined because of Russia after so many years of hard work. But still they say that having to build everything almost anew is better than never being able to come to this place again. Despite the uncertain times and their age that of course limits their resources, my grandma Vira and grandpa Serhiy have hope and will to make their garden blossom again. A week ago they sent me the photos of their first post-invasion harvest – a pile of cucumbers and three giant red strawberries

For sure the world has never experienced a war like the one that Russia launched against Ukraine in the aspect of an online coverage. While for example Syrian or Afghanistan wars were mostly exposed by big official media, in Ukraine almost everyone, from old people to children, has smartphones with cameras and knows how to use social networks – while a good mobile connection on most of the country’s territory allows to use them quite effectively. So to find out what’s going on in Ukraine you can simply open your Instagram, Facebook, Twitter or TikTok feed and watch real Ukrainian people posting right away from the bombed neighborhoods, soldiers going live from the trenches and drones broadcasting how they eliminate russian tanks directly from the battlefields. It makes a huge difference, even considering that there are too many sources to follow, too much information to sort out and too much fake news and manipulation around. But at least what foreign users see on social media, from other users, not from the media companies, journalists and politicians whom many tend to distrust, makes them more emotionally engaged. Somehow the videos of suffering and destruction touch you more when you see them on TikTok, rather than in the TV news. And the heartbreaking photos get way more response when posted in the Insta feed, rather than when printed in the newspaper.

I experienced it by myself when I started writing about the war from my Kharkiv basement shelter. I was not a journalist or a blogger, but hundreds of people followed me – because I was there, just under the russian bombs falling on my city, and I could show and tell immediately what it was like, and people could always keep in touch with me online, through Instagram feed and stories, through Facebook posts and tweets. At some point I found out that someone spread my videos all over TikTok though I never had my own account there. And most importantly, people around the world could engage in my life at war and in the tragedy of my country through me – because I was just like them. Just a girl who had a life that almost everyone, at least in the western world, has. I rented a flat with my partner, worked remotely as a designer and tried to make some art. I had a family, friends and cats. I would go to the cafes and restaurants, attend concerts and exhibitions, go for sports, watch TV series and play computer games. I visited my grandparents in the village outside the city, traveled around the country and abroad, spent holidays at my favorite forest spot or on the river beach. Very much the same activities that a regular Austrian, German, British or American person in their late 20s does. The only difference was that Russia invaded my country and none of those things, as well as my entire life, could be the same anymore. Everything I had, every place,  every person and even animal around me was affected by the war. The people who followed me could easily imagine themselves or their loved ones in my place. Their empathy made them so supportive. One of my most interesting observations was that the core of my audience, the people who were the most engaged with me, were women of my mother's age. No matter where they lived, in Austria, Germany, UK, US, Poland or the Baltics – they associated me with their own children and imagining that their children might experience the same horrible things made them terrified and also very outrageous towards the russians. I believe that such a big response that my «Letters from Kharkiv» received from the audience of Kleine Zeitung was caused exactly by this simple human empathy. For the readers I was (and am) just a person, not a journalist, sharing the honest life experiences and thoughts. And there are so many Ukrainians like me who every day go online and simply talk to the people from all over the world. For sure they made a huge contribution to the today's reality, when supporting Ukraine is considered a must-do thing. God bless the internet for making it possible.

But also I remember how important the possibility to go online and get access to the relevant information was for me and my neighbors during our first days in the basement shelter. The most important tool turned out to be Telegram messenger, as we could not only track the news in live broadcast there, but also to keep in touch with our loved ones. I remember all the neighbors sitting quietly in the basement while scrolling the news feeds on their phones, or calling to arrange evacuation, manage the infrastructure of the shelter or simply find out that their friends and family were safe. Through Telegram we found out that the Ukrainian army is successfully fighting back, that our leaders haven’t left the country as many were afraid they would do, that every single person in every town and village shows the Russians that they aren’t welcomed to our land at all. And that inspired us so much, gave hope and strength to maintain our own resistance. We learned that we were not alone, that we were together with our Ukrainian family in this battle – and then we also saw that the entire world stood up to support us. It’s hard to imagine how we would feel if we didn’t have access to this information. But we can just look at what was happening on the occupied territories and listen to Ukrainians who were trapped there, as the first thing the Russians did when they came was cutting off the mobile connection and internet. Apart from that, they would tell people lies about the President and government having left the country, about Russian troops taking one region after another, and about the Russian flag already waving above Kyiv. And the inhabitants of the occupied territories just couldn’t connect to the internet or reach someone in other regions to find out the truth. They were told that they belong to russia now and that their own country abandoned them, which of course made them desperate and unmotivated to resist further. My friend who managed to flee Mariupol after 4 months of siege told that she found out that Ukraine not just survived but was actually winning only when she made it to the Ukrainian controlled territory. «When you are isolated in some kind of an informational vacuum, when you’re constantly told lies – you have no other choice but to believe in them, you accept it as a new reality and learn to live in it, – she wrote. – And then the truth feels so painful and shocking you wish you didn’t learn it at all. But you must learn it, you must get out of this vacuum, because otherwise you get stuck in fear and despair forever».

On another upcoming winter of war

So we have entered the second December of the full-scale war, and are now getting ready to meet Christmas on the same day with the rest of Europe instead of January the 6th like we used to. This approaching winter feels much more different than the previous one. On the one hand, Ukraine has already learned very well the Russian tactics of bombing civilian infrastructure in an attempt to deprive people of basic amenities such as electricity, heating, water supply and internet connection, to make them desperate and unmotivated. And the country has been preparing its air defense systems very thoroughly throughout the year, remembering the bitter experience of last winter’s attacks. More weapons meant exactly to protect the cities against rockets and drones arrived from the allies, but also some new approaches were implemented. Like mobile brigades that hunt «Shakhed» drones and take them down using cheaper and faster means – basically they are just off-road vehicles equipped with machine guns and transportable anti aircraft systems. The effectiveness of those preparations was already proved many times – in every next attack the air defense took down most of the missiles, and recently the 100% score of shot targets became kind of a routine. Of course, there still was damage and injuries, but so far we can see that there were no air raids of the same devastative and destructive effect as during last autumn and winter. 

The situation in Kharkiv feels kind of strangely fascinating for me as a person who witnessed the beginning of the war there. Last spring, my home neighborhood Saltivka was the most dangerous place in the entire city, because it was constantly shelled from the short-range missile systems that the enemy installed in the occupied north-eastern suburbs. But after they’ve been thrown away in May 2022, they only could continue attacking Kharkiv from behind the border with rockets and drones which have a longer range - so they simply fly over Saltivka to fall somewhere closer to the city center or in south-western neighborhoods. So that’s how tables have turned – now my family feels so much safer going home to Saltivka (somehow everyone, my mother and I, both of my grandparents and our close relatives, live in different parts of this very big neighborhood) than to any other area. Kharkiv citizens laugh that finally this time has come, that most of the people want to move out from the city center to Saltivka. Though still the sirens there can be heard constantly, as well as the explosions – but they are always very distant, «not even worth going to the corridor», as they say.

Also civilian people themselves are much more prepared for the winter than last year. They’ve learned how to maintain a daily routine in the conditions of full blackout with much less stress and almost the same effectiveness. They’ve learned how much power every household device consumes, how to use less water for hygiene, dishwashing and laundry, and how to work, rest and overall manage life in a complete darkness. My grandparents and parents remember it as their regular days back in the 90s, and the younger generations perceive it as a necessary thing to learn in the times of the environmental crisis. Such practices very fast became not only a part of Ukrainian daily life, but also of its pop culture. Even in our local version of the famous «MasterChef» reality-show there are now contests about cooking without electricity, controlling power and water supply, preserving food and no-waste cuisine! Also, of course, every Ukrainian became skilled in using generators, portable power stations and electricity storage devices. Most of the people have them already stocked in large amounts after last winter. And besides that, people became very creative in finding cheap and easy-to-use substitutes. For example, my mother purchased a lot of decorative electric garlands which work on the batteries for our entire family, so during the blackouts everyone had not only some sources of light, but also a festive atmosphere in their homes. 

On the other hand though, this winter seems to become much more difficult for Ukraine in terms of morality and psychological resilience. And it’s not only because people are tired of living under a permanent threat of being killed for almost 2 years. This physical and mental exhaustion, lack of visible and obvious progress on the frontlines – since the Russian army managed to dig really deep into the occupied lands, whilst the military help from the West is arriving way slower than it’s needed – and thus lack of the understanding of how much long this war will last – all these is worsened by the political turbulence, inside the country and abroad, which Russia of course doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of. The elections around the globe where the question whether to continue or to cut the military help for Ukraine became one of the most disputed. The articles in the media about how the Ukrainian counter-offensive «failed» – which are just for loud headlines but still very demotivating for those who don’t have a privilege to read them in safety. The hesitation, lack of determination and indecisive cautiousness of the Western politicians, the fact that Russia sees it and becomes more and more confident in their impunity, and of course the inner scandals and political games, which always used to be there but amidst the war are felt much bigger and devastating. All this makes many Ukrainians feel desperate and betrayed.

Still, it’s not like Ukrainians themselves are ready to surrender, to give up territories and people who live there, to agree on anything Russia would suggest just to stop this nightmare. They know very well that the «peace» like that wouldn’t last for long, and that as soon as Russia, who has already learned from its mistakes, recovers from the damage and restores its power – everything will start anew, but in the larger, more terrible scales. So as I see the dominant thought among the Ukrainians now is not «If things go like this, we will have to stop fighting and surrender» – but rather «If things go like this, we will have to continue fighting all by ourselves, and most probably we are all going to be killed». It is good to know that my country is not going to surrender under any circumstances, to hand over to the enemy those who remained under occupation, and to betray the memory of those who gave their lives for its freedom. Yet, the fact that all the suffering we went through during the last 2 years could be in vain – not because of our lack of effort and will, but of the things we cannot even control – scares me a lot. And as I am trying to overcome this fear and stay strong like I used to be, every next day it’s getting more and more difficult.

On Fear and Fearlessness, part 1

It’s been almost 2 years of the full-scale war in Ukraine, and more than a year since I am a refugee in Austria. The adrenaline phase of the months when I fought for survival in Kharkiv, as well as the «adrenaline hangover» phase of my first half a year in exile, have passed, the inner storms have calmed (or rather my «ship» finally learned how to live in the seas of permanent storm), and thus made a room for some self-reflection. I feel that not just me, but many Ukrainians, mostly those who are abroad, but also those who stayed in relatively safe situations, have recently started to think about what the war has done to us, where we are standing right now, and what our future will be like. What does it mean to be a Ukrainian at the beginning of the year 2024?

For me it is always to be afraid. Yes, this may sound surprising. In these 2 years our nation has become kind of a synonym for fearlessness – with an unarmed man stopping tanks or a woman taking down the drone with a jar of pickled tomatoes as major symbols. And I myself have been all this time trying to appear brave and strong – to support people around me who felt weak, to inspire people abroad so that they don’t stop helping my country in its fight. But most importantly – not to let myself go insane, not to let despair swallow me so that I freeze in helplessness. Before the full-scale war, like probably many people in the world who lived in peace and «kind-of» stability, I used to view fear as a very simple, unambiguous thing – a weakness, something you need to get rid of in order to succeed. Now, after being through so much stuff, I’ve learned that fear has thousands of shades. But no matter the shade, our prejudice and stereotypes make us feel ashamed of it, try to suppress and hide it from the people’s eyes.

So some may think that admitting - and speaking out! – that we Ukrainians are actually afraid (VERY MUCH afraid), will lead to disappointment and despondency among our allies. They might say that it was exactly the Ukrainian fearlessness, that symbolic man stopping tanks with his bare hands and symbolic woman taking down a drone with the jar kind of «sold» to the world the idea of supporting Ukraine, the possibility of Ukraine’s victory, in which so few believed. So now, they might say, after finding out that you are afraid, the world might see the truth, that you are actually… only humans?

I have to confess, I used to be the one who thought in the same way. And these days, after the counter offensive on which so many put their overexaggerated hopes didn’t bring Ukraine and its allies a fast and glorious victory, after all those talks around whether there is a conflict between our President and Chief Commander, and whether everyone is tired and not wanting to fight anymore and maybe there have been too much drama around how bad would the things be if Putin wins… All this makes me sometimes think that the world indeed tends to support only the Heroes, only the «pure Good” which has no flaws and always wins. And as soon as the Heroes fail, as soon as they struggle and make mistakes, as soon as they show that they’re actually afraid, desperate, unconfident – there come doubts, are they even worth being supported? Because before it was so clear who was on the «bright side» and who was on the «dark side», who were «elves» and who were «orcs» – but now, maybe it’s not that definite anymore? Yes, sometimes it feels that for the hero it is much more acceptable to be dead than to be «imperfect» or «weak».

But I think that in these tough times we’re going through, when the war has been continuing for so long already and the euphoria of the first successes faded – it is much more important to remind to the world (as well as to us Ukrainians, and to myself) that we are not in a movie or a TV show, and that we are all just humans. Who may be afraid and desperate, who just can’t play heroes over and over to gain some compassion. And who sometimes just wish to be left alone in peace. But equally deserving to simply live and be supported in their will to live. This is what Ukrainians are protecting – this very basic human right and very simple human desire to live, as a human. And it wasn’t that Ukrainians just got rid of all the fear after the war started, or that they didn’t have fear at all – it’s just at some moment the amount of anger caused by Russia’s impudence and disregard for our lawful rights has exceeded the amount of fear inherent in any human being.

One of the first visual poetic messages I wrote days before the first bombs fell on my home city, was «Yes, I am afraid. But also I am fucking angry». This phrase can still be found on the charity postcards of Office Ukraine Graz in <rotor> Centre for Contemporary Art – I sent it to them for printing straight from the basement shelter in Kharkiv when I was still hiding there. During all this time I was focused on researching and reflecting on anger, the one that arises in you when your human rights are being violated and that helps you to fight for them. Now I think the time has come to also reflect on fear, in myself, my family, my friends, my people, the fear which we all have as humans and in which we all as humans are equal. 

On Fear and Fearlessness, part 2

Ukrainians are afraid.

No matter who and where they are. Whether they have evacuated or stayed in Lviv, in Kyiv, in Kharkiv, in Kherson, there’s plenty of fear everywhere. And when you get closer to the frontline, the fear doesn’t grow bigger, neither it fades. It just becomes different – at least that was how I felt it myself. When I was in Kharkiv in the spring 2022, the difference in people’s fear depending on their area of living was very clear. Compared to my Mom and I, who stayed in a «safer» neighborhood, for example, those who lived right at the edge of Saltivka seemed to be truly fearless. But I understand now that they were still afraid, just of something else, not of the missiles falling non-stop which they were already accustomed to. At the same time, my Mom and I were much less afraid of the shellings, if compared to our friends in Lviv. Thus, I believe, a civilian who lives abroad, and the one who lives in the West of Ukraine, and a citizen of Odesa, and a soldier in a trench near Avdiivka, are all afraid in their own way, and in most cases one has no idea about the fear of the other. 

I myself have been in two positions – a Ukrainian civilian woman who stayed in Ukraine and a Ukrainian civilian woman who left the country and evacuated abroad – and in both of them I was (and am) afraid. So I will speak about fear from those two perspectives, as long as I am familiar with them the most. 

A Ukrainian who chose to stay in Ukraine is afraid of leaving it (but of course cannot admit that this very fear was one of the essential reasons to stay). To leave your home country and go abroad - even when you know that you’re going to the safer place – means to face drastic changes in your entire lifestyle, in everything you used to know. It means a complete uncertainty about every next moment of your and your loved ones’ life. What happens when you cross the border, will you be accepted in a new country? Will you find a place to stay? With parents/kids/pets? For how long? For how much money? How to get legalized in this country and what to do next? Job? Language courses? School or kindergarten for children? But what if in just one or two months you decide to come back, is there any sense in trying to really assimilate in the society you’re not planning to become a part of? And in this case, is there any sense in leaving at all? To go through all this uncertainty, all this unknown – even if it is a safe unknown? Safe unknown is scary, while the bombs that may fall on your head and kill you, though it may sound weird, are less scary, because they are simply more familiar. I myself didn’t feel this fear very deep, because I was used to traveling and staying in another country for several months, and also I was sure that I have friends who would help me. But I know that my Mother was very much afraid, and if it wasn’t for me, she would never leave Kharkiv. This fear was exactly the reason why my grandparents rejected even going to the nearby «safer» towns, only 50-100 km away, even when the situation in Kharkiv was the most dangerous. 

At the same time, a Ukrainian who chose to stay in Ukraine is actually afraid to continue staying there (and it is also very difficult and shameful to admit). Because no matter where you are, a rocket or a drone may fall on your head and kill you, or your loved ones, destroy your house, your car, all your belongings and savings. There’s no place, object or a living creature in Ukraine where, which and whom Russia is not able to reach. You probably can feel safe enough only if you live in the bunker and never go outside - but it is also a very scary perspective. I myself have these dreams from time to time, in which I find myself still staying in that basement in Kharkiv. I know, from my «Letters from Kharkiv» which I wrote in spring 2022 it didn’t seem that I’d had a horrible time there. But believe me, returning to that place, having to live that experience over again is what I fear most now. And when I wake up from such dreams it takes me quite some time to understand that I’m not there anymore. Once I even had to go to my window and see Graz outside to calm myself down.

But then, what am I afraid of today, a Ukrainian who left the war-torn country and evacuated to safe Austria? Of the same things actually. I am afraid to leave, and I am afraid to stay. I am afraid to leave Austria and come back to my home country (even though I know I won’t have to return to my «nightmare bunker»). In fact, I am not obliged to return to Kharkiv at all, I can move to Kyiv which is much further from any frontlines, or even to Lviv or Chernivtsi. But still, as I said, no matter the distance – war is everywhere. Wherever you go, you put yourself (back) under a permanent risk, doom yourself to always stay alerted. After living for some time in safety, it may be a very scary and painful experience, to get accustomed again to air raids, explosions and sheltering yourself in another basement or at least in the bathroom. But it is even scarier to come back and find out that you don’t fit in anymore. After all, both the environment you used to consider native and you yourself have changed a lot during this time – and some of these changes may turn out to be fatal. What if you leave the place which you feel you don’t belong to, and come back to a place you perceived as home – only to find out that you no more belong there as well? Thinking about it gives me real shivers.

So I am afraid to leave Austria, to leave Graz, as today I am much more used to living here, and now it is coming back to Ukraine that seems to me something uncertain and unknown. But still I am afraid to stay in Austria. Because every next day of my stay here is a silent acknowledgment of the fact that the war in my home country won’t end soon, that it will actually last for quite a long time. Every day, month by month, I come closer to accepting the idea that my past life in Ukraine is gone forever, and I either need to come back and start it anew, or to try and build a completely different life in Graz. And the longer I stay, the more I come to terms with the thought that I am here for a long long time. And the more I hesitate to leave Austria and come back to Ukraine, the more my home country, my home town, my people, move away from me, the more they become aliens to me and the more I become alien to them. While at the same time I know that here I will always be a Ukrainian refugee, no matter how long I live in Graz, how good my language is and how smoothly I navigate the Austrian bureaucracy. So every day my fear of staying in evacuation pushes me to start packing my stuff and making plans on returning – and fear of leaving this safe space, which I’m already used to calling home, pulls me back. These fears tear me apart, moreover, they make me freeze. I hate this condition more than everything, and I hate those who made me, my family, my friends, experience it.

So, yes, I am afraid. But I know that at least I have this choice – to stay or to leave. While there are people in Ukraine who don’t have this choice. I’d love to say that it makes them fearless. But the truth is that they are scared too, scared as hell, more than all of us. But still they continue fighting – so that we, Ukrainians today and Ukrainians of the future, don’t have these kinds of fears anymore. And this is what I believe real bravery is. 

Kharkiv is living and working

This slogan can now be seen all over the city, on the billboards and citylights. For the first time they appeared already during the siege in the very beginning of the full-scale invasion. Kharkiv was very empty and quiet then, and to be assured that it not only managed to survive, but that its heart was beating as actively as before – was especially important and valuable. Everyone, from the mayor to a gardener in a public park, have always pointed out that Kharkiv is very busy, it is working hard and nothing will stop it from getting the job done, whether this job is maintaining critical infrastructure or taking care of the flower beds. Actually I haven’t seen such an emphasis on work in any other Ukrainian city, somehow it became Kharkiv’s kind of trademark. By the end of 2023 quite many people have returned, restaurants and shops, clubs and beauty salons, art galleries and theaters, cinemas and commercial centers have reopened – lots of occasions to show to the enemy that they simply cannot stop Kharkiv from living (and working). Routine actions – having your morning coffee, getting your hair or nails done, going to a concert – turned into manifestations of bravery and resilience, they spread in social media and served as certain cheers and support for fellow Ukrainians and citizens themselves. Life seemed to have come back to some kind of «normality» – a war-time version of it, with air raids (when all businesses are obliged to stop operating, but not many of them actually do) and curfews. Winter seasons turned out not too bad, and at some point it felt that the danger of blackouts and all those preparations to them were a bit exaggerated.

But on the 22d of March Russia launched one of the biggest attacks on the critical infrastructure of Kharkiv since the very beginning of the war. The huge power station that provided the city with electricity – also Ukrainian second largest station of that kind – was destroyed completely. Lights and heating were gone, water supply in some households too. I’ve lost contact with my mother and grandparents for a while, because mobile connection was also affected badly – it is indeed one of the worst feelings ever, not being able to reach your loved ones while staying in safety, but hundreds of kilometers away.

This day marked the beginning of a tough period for my city, which is still continuing. Though the situation with the power supply was somehow stabilized – Kharkiv now receives electricity mostly from the neighboring regions – the scheduled blackouts have become again a part of the city’s daily routine. It wasn’t that harsh even back in the autumn of 2022 – then Kyiv was the main target, while in Kharkiv the things weren’t even bad enough to turn off the street illumination in the city center. Now it dived again into darkness, and started reminding of the time when Kharkiv was under real threat of falling. Those memories, together with all the information «leaks» about Kremlin gathering 300,000 troops to throw them again at Kharkiv, and all the Russian authorities’ claims about their intention to turn the entire area into «a sanitary zone to secure their border regions» – obviously affected people’s mood not in a good way. But I would say, neither in a way Russia would expect – Kharkiv citizens are rather annoyed and angry than desperate and panicking. Imagine, you are just trying to live and work – in a war-torn country with a difficult economic situation, not even mentioning the permanent threat from the skies - then you need to adapt your life and business to the blackouts lasting from 4 to 12 hours, depending on how lucky you are – and in addition to all this, you hear 24/7 from everywhere that Russia is going to siege and occupy your city in weeks, if not tomorrow!.. This can exhaust even the toughest of us. But make people flee the city or start protesting and demanding from the Ukrainian government to go for «peace» negotiations at any conditions – definitely not, whatever the Russian media (and unfortunately some Western media who for some reason still listen to Russia) say. 

I myself heard and read numerous hysterical titles like «Massive traffic jams on the way out of Kharkiv as the citizens flee from the Russian advance», «Everything is closed in Kharkiv», «Kharkiv is empty because everyone has run away», etc. First they made me laugh, but eventually I just got bored. Because I also saw with my own eyes when I was visiting my family in Kharkiv all those crowds in the commercial centers, cafes, in parks and simply on the streets, and all those traffic jams, but inside the city, and not on the way out. At the same time, I twice witnessed my Mom receiving a message on her Viber from some random numbers. The message said the same but in different forms: «This is the city administration contacting. Due to the threat of the siege, we advise all citizens of Kharkiv to evacuate». Even without a warning and clarification from the real city administration it was clear that those messages were fakes sent by Russian trolls to spread panic – as well as those titles. But unfortunately some people, most of them outside Kharkiv, believed – and that made things even more annoying, as now everyone in Kharkiv, from the mayor to a gardener in a public park, have to constantly reassure the others that the city is still living and working and is going to continue it like this. 

Meanwhile, Kharkiv adapts quickly to the new blackout times. The streets are filled with sounds of working generators – every business has its own one fully topped with gasoline and placed outside. Sometimes with those generators you don’t even notice that the electricity is off, everything works as usual. Restaurants and cafes who additionally have «Starlinks» offer themselves as coworking spaces for those who don’t have internet connection at home. My Mom has a compact power station in our flat, but she uses it only when she urgently needs some device (like a hair dryer if she didn’t manage to dry before the electricity went off). For the light she has many LED-garlands all around the house, and also various candles – they for sure add extra coziness. And if she needs to do anything with her both hands - for this she has a touristic headlamp. Blackouts in the evening are a time to slow down and rest – you simply can’t spend hours in social media as usual because of the poor connection, so you switch to watching downloaded movies, reading an e-book or just sleeping. I know other people spend their blackouts with live music or board games, playing with their kids or pets, or simply talking to each other. It’s like a certain flashback (and for the modern kids, a first glance) at the times when people weren’t permanently online. And it is definitely not what Russia would expect from them to do, to feel, it is definitely not despair, fear and panic, though, of course, people are very exhausted. Still, they manage to live and work, even in such dark times - and prove to everyone that Kharkiv is impossible to break.