![]() ![]() She returned to her new apartment after midnight that night. Mariana Yavolina, a physical therapist, had the misfortune of moving to the residential compound in Darnitsya the day of the attack. “At least someone is getting rest,” he added, with a weary smile. She slept right through the weekend attacks, the businessman said. “Now she is used to it, and she isn’t afraid.” “It’s better that it’s a joke between us,” he said. “We are being subjected to a game of Russian roulette every night.”īut still, it’s better to avoid telling his child the whole truth. It’s better than to try to explain to her what is really going on, he said, watching her make sand castles in the family’s neighbourhood playground. With every bang, he tells her “Putin is making a racket again,” referring to Russian President Vladimir Putin. Every time there is an air raid, he carries her to the corridor and waits for the all-clear. Pavlo Chervinskyi, 45, tells his 4-year-old daughter that it’s all a game when their apartment windows rattle with the distant boom of the nighttime explosions. Charred pieces of wood and insulation lie under the springtime sun, as parents stroll by with their children and neighbors exchange the latest gossip. In Darnitsya, leftover debris from the fire was piled inside a large garbage can. With every update - “Another coming from East,” “More launched from sea! Take cover!” - people respond with an emoji expressing expletives.īut the calculations that civilians make about what to do next is often very different across all walks of life, with some staying at home, resigned to their fate and others speeding toward safer spaces. The debris from destroyed Russian missiles have rained down on civilians, causing fires and injuries.įor many in the city, the sound of the air raid alarm is accompanied by the constant ring of Telegram, the preferred app in Ukraine for sharing updates about the airstrikes. Others embrace apathy, lying awake in bed, as the sounds of explosions ricochet across the skies.īut the defense systems can’t shield civilians from every harm. When the alarm blares, some in the city are consumed by fear, imagining the worst-case scenarios that could unfold displacement, being trapped under rubble, being killed. “Every night, we are afraid,” she said, tearing up. Nearly two weeks ago, debris from a shot-down missile landed on the roof of a building next to hers in Kyiv’s Darnytsia district, causing a large fire. At the sound of the alarm, she dashes downstairs to her building’s basement and takes shelter. “Please,” she asks, closing her eyes and addressing the heavens, “Let it be quiet.”īy her bedside is a bag packed full of essentials: documents, dry foods and water. In the recent escalation of Russian attacks, Olha Bukhno, 65, a cleaner, says a prayer every night. ![]() The sirens wail across the Ukrainian capital, rousing bleary-eyed residents, who, after 15 months of war, have customized individual routines to cope with Russia’s latest air campaign. KYIV, Ukraine (AP) - The attacks come at night, when most in Kyiv are sound asleep. ![]()
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