Sometimes, where I live in Kyiv, I hear people say: “This feels pre-war.” It refers to situations that remind us of what life was like before. You could call it a “sense of normalcy”.
For example, it refers to being able to walk around at night, travel abroad or plan your life at least six months in advance. Simple, everyday things have become a lost luxury.
Sometimes people say this phrase simply because they feel that the war isn’t completely occupying their entire mental space: while attending a play at the theatre, for example, or reading arguments about Eurovision. But this ability to mentally transport yourself back in time doesn’t remove the reality that will never let you forget where you are. We are in a place where a theatre performance is overshadowed by the threat of ballistic strikes. Where musicians who could have gone to Eurovision are serving in the army. Where a drone yesterday crashed into the coffee shop that people are used to getting their morning coffee from. But today the coffee shop is reopening, and people head over to their new location for a cappuccino, scanning the QR codes posted everywhere, codes that can be used to donate to the military units the coffee shop supports. It’s a place where the missiles and drones strike suddenly. Just this week, another salvo in Kyiv and other cities. More than two dozen injured only hours after US Congress passed a sanctions bill allowing the country to target Moscow.
Recently, I had the opportunity to visit Poland for a few days. The seaside in Sopot, located very close to Gdańsk, is now a very peaceful place. In 1939, Hitler was here with his army. A hotel on the shore served as his headquarters during the invasion of Poland. It is well known that he adored this region. Was this his “happy place”? In 2009, Putin stayed at the same hotel to mark the 70th anniversary of the start of the second world war. All of this, against the backdrop of carefree tourists, made me reflect on the fact that every place has different stories associated with it over time.
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I began to think about it when I returned to Kyiv. Sitting on the banks of the Dnipro River one day, I recalled my feelings in Sopot. I thought that a place has as many versions as it has witnesses, and these versions can exist in the same place at the same time.
