Cornelia Dickhoff-Schmalohr

Rainy day in Kyiv. But I do love rain. To stand under a tree without an umbrella. To listen to the heavy sound of drops falling from the leaves. You won’t see it in the media or perhaps anywhere else. There is autumn in Kyiv. Autumn.

Things are so messed up in the world. I stopped and looked at autumn. My mum wrote that drones caused damage in my hometown. She is fine. I filmed colourful leaves. Kyiv is preparing to get some rest, but rest is not the thing here. Beauty gives me some.

Late evening in Kyiv. Darkness is dotted with pale light from windows. Power outage. A familiar voice outside assured everyone that the air raid alert was over. When did it begin? These days, the attacks seem continuous. I see no need to complain or grumble. I write. You read. I write.