I’m writing this article sitting on the floor of my bathroom, which has served as a makeshift bedroom and office for almost the past year and a half. A friend from Israel recently told me about mamads: specially fortified rooms in residential buildings that can withstand shockwaves and protect against missile debris. My faith and hope, however, lie mainly with Kyiv’s air defence forces. They’re true heroes and true professionals. Rarely does a May night go by here without an air attack, be it from missiles, Iranian Shahed drones, or both at once.
On the night of Sunday 28th May, the number of attacks this month rose to fifteen. But Russia decided to “treat” us on Monday morning, too, with Iskander missiles launched on a ballistic trajectory. When these things are shot down, a white ball forms in the sky and the whole building shudders. Sometimes the explosions sound one after the other, like a cannonade. I’m long past the point of wanting to record and make notes of what I feel during the attacks. It’s not that I’ve become used to living in mortal danger, it’s just that fear isn’t constructive. Everyone takes the precautions that their nervous system considers appropriate.
Many people once again shelter in metro stations, taking their children — including babies — as well as pets in carriers and on leads, sleeping mats, and bottles of water. Others — those who have shelters nearby — occupy their usual places in them.