Valeria Tanashchuk packed up a few last belongings from her home. Going in the evacuation van waiting outside: her daughter Nicole’s favourite bear, clothes, items of furniture and a microwave oven. Staying behind: her mother Marina’s collection of detective novels, a wall poster with the Ukrainian alphabet written on it, and a pair of furry slippers.
“We don’t want to leave. But would choice do we have?” Tanashchuk asked, as a thunderous boom echoed nearby. “The explosions get worse every day. They are louder and more frequent.” What would she do next? “I don’t have a concrete plan,” she said. “I will try and find work somewhere. We had hoped until the end that everything would be OK.”
