DIARY
Jen Stout, foreign correspondent
PHOTOGRAPHY BY ANDREW CRAWLEY
A vast city in blackout is, for a moment, beautiful. The starry sky is so bright, so surreal above the grand, dimmed buildings of central Kharkiv. Tiny beams of light nod on the paths through Shevchenko Gardens, as residents make their way home by torchlight.
But then the air raid sirens begin again, one after the other, wailing to an appalling crescendo. My stomach lurches. The darkness has become unnerving.
There is nothing romantic about a city that’s cut off—no light, no internet connection, no GPS. Life becomes difficult. If the hospitals lose power, if sewage systems collapse, if supply lines are blocked, it would quickly become unbearable. Everyone would leave.
Kharkiv is not at that point yet. But the rumours are swirling, the air attacks are more frequent, and even the most committed Kharkivite is thinking, quietly, about contingency plans. About evacuation routes.