Dasha, Kharkiv

The war did not come as a surprise to us, because for several months we read the news and understood where everything was going. But still, the war has become the greatest shock for us, a shock that one expected to happen in the 21st century.
On February 24, at 4 a.m., I was not one of those who woke up from the explosions. My husband and I didn’t sleep. Since the beginning of the pandemic, our schedule has been rearranged, and we have been mostly nocturnal: we worked until late at night, and then watched a TV series or played video games. That night we watched Putin’s address, and when the video ended, we heard the first explosions. Then everything happened very quickly.

Under the sounds of explosions, we collected documents, things, medicines. We put a couple of T-shirts and one hoodie in a suitcase, the rest of the free space was reserved for our dog, cats, and food. We collected two cats, one Rottweiler, and a couple of bags with the most necessary things.

We loaded everything into the car, took my brother, and left home. Under the sounds of explosions, we left our hometown, not knowing when we would return or if we would return at all.

In Kharkiv, we left everything, our whole life: our relatives and friends who refused to evacuate, the apartment in which we have lived for the last five years, the apartment in which we had to move in April, our two joint businesses.
We did not leave the country and did not even leave for another city. We live near Kharkiv with my parents. We fall asleep and wake up to the sounds of explosions and gunshots coming from all sides.Everyday we hear Kharkiv being bombed and methodically wiped off the face of the earth.

It’s the 20th day and it still feels like I’m walking blindly through a fog. I am out of work for the 20th day. On the 20th day, I pray that I and all my family will survive this hell. On the 20th day I am trying to realize a new reality, but still unsuccessfully.