a Kind of Refugee / 25.05.2023
Walking past my neighborhood Irish pub on the way home this evening, I spotted my dear friend M and her partner K sipping drinks on the summer terrace. Running into people you know while just going about your business is what makes a city feel like home.
They’d just been to the theater. Today I taught two Awareness Through Movement classes (soldiers and civilians), ironed out the logistics of the translating job I start tomorrow morning, and tried to articulate the political significance in the growing currency of spelling Odesa with only one S.
M spent over a year working practically nonstop as a fixer for foreign journalists. Now she is resting with the same characteristic verve and intensity of activity. Sitting across from my friends, it’s as if an invisible plexiglass screen separates our momentarily incompatible modes of existence. No beer for me, alas, but they kindly share their appetizer.
For now, here’s a photo of the contemporary art show I visited last weekend in Kyiv.

PS Lately everywhere I turn someone is raising money for a vehicle for a UAF unit. Cars in combat zones wear out like Kleenex. Iryna, an artist I’ve known for years, just shared a call for three vehicles for the 3rd Assault Brigade, who made territorial gains last week near Bakhmut. PayPal: zgodayulia12@gmail.com