An Evening Almost Lost

I made this drawing in Kyiv in July 2024, during a long night of relentless bombings. Around midnight, the explosions began. As the blasts crept closer, I realized it was already too late to leave my eighth-floor apartment. I could hear dozens of bombs cutting through the sky, their distant roars folding into each other. With nowhere to go and nothing else to do, I sat down and started drawing my balcony — a place where I had spent many quiet hours before the war. Later, as the strikes intensified, I moved to the bathroom, hoping its walls might shield me if the windows shattered. I stayed there until 5 a.m., following every air raid alert on my phone until its battery nearly died. I stepped back into the apartment to grab my charger from the balcony. Just as I did, I heard the sharp buzz of a drone speeding up over the roof — the sound that meant it was about to strike. A sudden blast rang out. I heard something heavy spiraling through the air, dropping closer and closer. For a few seconds, I was sure it was over — that the bomb was coming straight for my building. I closed my eyes and braced for impact. Then another explosion: the apartment across the street had been hit. Flames erupted from their windows.