I rush out of my apartment in Kyiv with the clear understanding I might not ever be back. It’s easy. Books, paintings, clothes — all had no value. In any case, our lives would never be the same. I take my laptop, money, and a few black and white photos from my childhood, and some essentials for a month.
So far my neighborhood has been safe. Kyiv, a megapolis of four million, is divided by the Dnieper River into the eastern Left and western Right banks. The Left bank, where I live, is residential and so far not under bombardment, while the government and the city’s downtown are on the other side. If the Russian troops move from the East the bridges might be blown. On the second day of the invasion, a curfew was imposed, and all the bridges blocked. I’m worried about becoming trapped.
I had driven past a building that was hit by an airstrike a few hours before. Four floors…
