The first day of the full-scale invasion found us in Kyiv. Following the initial missile strikes, Russian aircraft and helicopters began carrying out air raids, bombing and firing on the suburbs. At the same time, Russian forces attempted to land airborne assault troops. We were preparing to spend the night in the underground car park beneath our Kyiv office. Towards evening, diplomats we knew called us and strongly advised us to leave Kyiv. We had only 30 minutes to make this difficult decision and pack our belongings. We decided to travel to western Ukraine, where it would be easier to use our international connections to help our colleagues and friends deal with the logistical challenges of a possible evacuation. Together with foreign journalists, we left the city in two cars at 9:00 p.m. It took us more than a day to cover the 600 kilometres that would normally take about six hours. It was the first time in my life that I had driven for so long without sleep. Travelling with us were two young women who wanted to leave the country, a young man who was trying to reach Lviv, our cat, as well as another cat and a dog belonging to one of our fellow travellers.

We are now 700 kilometres away from Kyiv, in a small village near the Ukrainian-Polish border. We are staying with the parents of our friends from Lviv. Their home became our base for the next five months. It is extraordinarily beautiful here. From the window, we can see the Carpathian Mountains. Every day, we admire these breathtaking landscapes, and their peaceful beauty gives us strength and confidence that our people will endure and ultimately prevail.

In the following days, all of our team members left Kyiv. The adviser of our bureau, Zinaida Reznytska, whom you know, stayed in Kyiv for the longest period. She, her two-month-old baby, and her husband spent more than a week in the bomb shelter.

In the village where we live with our friends now, the state border service established a checkpoint on the first day of the war. Every five hours, a shift of two border guards and two volunteers takes up duty.

My shift started at 6:30 in the morning. I had just put my clothes on when I received a message on the phone about the alarm in our Kyiv office. I realized that a missile had hit the building or something near it. In a few days, I asked my relative to check the office. He sent us photos showing broken windows in the office due to the air attack. On the street where we live in Kyiv, there have already been two hits by Russian missiles. One of them hit the hospital. Thank God, no one was hurt. Fragments of another missile, after it was destroyed by the Ukrainian air defence, smashed the upper floors of a residential building. The building in which the hospital is situated now was a military design bureau 30 years ago. Russians were using paper maps from the 1980s for their attacks.

A View of My Street in Peacetime — and During the War

For about two weeks in a row, Russia was shelling Kyiv with medium-range missiles, striking from the territory of Belarus and the Black Sea. There were also attempts to break into the city by land, which were unsuccessful. The night battle on the ground shown in the presentation took place 2 km away from our office.

The Destruction of Kyiv’s Suburbs

When it became clear that the Russian army had failed to take Kyiv, Russian forces began to destroy its suburbs — Bucha, Irpin, Borodianka and Makariv. Between 3 March and 1 April 2022, hundreds of civilians, including children, were killed. Homes were looted and destroyed. It was almost impossible for us to comprehend the reports of Russian soldiers raping women, shooting civilians, and crushing civilian vehicles with tanks while people were still inside. From phone calls intercepted by our army, we learned that Russian soldiers were surprised by the presence of asphalt roads, electricity, and sewerage in small villages. These people are barbarians. It is hard to believe that in the 21st century we see the same horrors that scarred the dramatic 20th century. From the captured suburbs, the outskirts of Kyiv were shelled every day — aimlessly, simply to destroy something.

The Russian military carried out an air strike on the Drama Theatre in Mariupol, where hundreds of civilians were sheltering.

As for us personally, one day followed another. Every day my wife and I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to read the latest military report. Then we called our friends to find out how the night had passed in their city or town. During the day, we carried out volunteer tasks. I urgently had to master the roles of psychologist and logistician. In addition, I returned to my first profession — journalism. Every day during the first three weeks of the war, I went live for Bulgarian television and radio channels and prepared articles for a Lithuanian news portal.

“The division of the United States and Europe over the war in Ukraine is exactly what Putin wants. There are no economic reasons behind Russia’s actions, nor is there anything rational about them. There is only Russia’s existential drive to destroy. Russian civilisation remains deeply shaped by the legacy of the Golden Horde. The attempts of Tsar Peter the Great to graft a flourishing European branch onto this wild Asian tree ultimately failed.

In the United States and Europe, Russia is still often viewed through the romantic lens of the nineteenth century and through its most prominent cultural figures — Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Tolstoy and Tchaikovsky. Yes, they were Russian, but culturally they were also European. That is why their works, despite their distinctly Russian characteristics, remain understandable and compelling to European readers and audiences.

Modern Russia, however, can no longer be associated with ballet, classical music or even the clichéd images of vodka, caviar, matryoshka dolls, ushanka hats and balalaikas. It has become a land ruled by a maniac, supported by a population made up largely of people who are either indifferent or too afraid to acknowledge what they do not wish to see or hear.”