On the makeshift workbench in the cramped front room of a cottage near the frontlines of the Russia-Ukraine war, there are all the accoutrements of a drone workshop. The walls are lined with pliers and rolls of duct tape; the table is cluttered with screwdrivers and piles of wire. Propped up against the wall are two kamikaze drones. Only one item looks out of place in this Ukrainian village house: a pot of Chinese longjing tea, the leaves wilted from repeated top-ups.
Good tea is one of the many things that Tim misses about his life in China. His parents post monthly supplies to Ukraine. “I think about all of it,” the 44-year-old said, of his home country. “It brings back memories and emotions.”
