Thirty years ago, almost to the day, I first went to Kyiv. Until Covid, I continued to go there regularly, and Ukraine became my second home. With the pandemic easing, I had planned to return this month. So I know Ukraine — especially Kyiv and Lviv — very well, and to see so many familiar places become war zones is both strange and horrifying.
Texting or talking on the phone to my many friends there every day is very upsetting — I feel guilty about the contrast between my situation and theirs, and despair about what might happen to them. The euphoria about the slow and botched initial Russian attack has worn off, and I wonder for how much longer I will remain in contact with my friends, or even whether I will ever see them again. As I write, Ukrainian cities are being bombarded by the Russians, with mass civilian casualties, and this probably will soon be taking place in Kyiv.