As I consumed some great ravioli made by Viktor’s mum in her and her husband’s fourth-floor modest Soviet flat in Kyiv, she told Maria and I how she woke up the night before and heard a Russian missile pass overhead. ‘It made a “swoosh” noise, and I rushed out of bed into the hall to be away from the windows, but the siren soon sounded the all clear,’ she recalled in a matter of fact way, so common to those Ukrainians we met on our project. They have almost normalised the lethal consequences of this heinous invasion. In another part of the country 25 people were killed that day.
We are in Kyiv to complete our photographic and video project, ‘How do you dance in a war zone?’ It all came about 12 months ago when
