By the time Evgeniya Kuleba comes to meet us in The Heavenly Hundred Garden in central Kiev, night has fallen. Despite the first signs of spring, an icy wind has pushed the temperature down to -5 Celsius. Two years after the Maidan Revolution of 2014, that many refer to as the Revolution of Dignity, the…
| April 2, 2016
‘You’re in Room 5?’ the young receptionist at the hostel asked, raising her eyebrows. ‘Well, there is a very… hmmm … interesting Polish man in the room with you this weekend…Have a nice day!’ It was by his smell that I first encountered Rafa: his cigarette smoke filled the non-smoking hostel and his sweaty trainers…
| June 5, 2015
“Do you like comics?” says Razvan, rummaging in a kitchen cupboard. He’s nine years old and has a large collection. I smile across the room. “Everyone likes comics.” “Not in our house,” says younger brother Tudor, leaning in at the doorway and watching us with big brown eyes. He wears flip-flops and Mickey Mouse shorts.…
| November 25, 2014
A Soviet-made helicopter is a grinding, oily beast which announces itself long before visual contact. The Mi-8s, the cargo and passenger transport machines, can be heard at great distance. But there are the small, agile Mi-2s, which can conceal themselves in a leeward valley and pop up over a ridge, catching you fully erect, fishing…
| April 30, 2014
As I got to the top of Tihany hill and wandered through the clifftop gardens, the Hungarian girl on the bench, bespectacled and clutching a shopping bag, was looking out over Lake Balaton. She smiled at me politely as I passed and then went back to her reverie. The day was overcast, not a single…
| April 26, 2014