Tim Kirk

Well, congratulations to the Americans. Now you get to drive on our blood, but hey, at least it’s cheaper. I’m writing this right now, sitting in a minibus in Kyiv. Today, I met up with some friends. For the first time in a while, I just wanted to spend some time together, talk, and enjoy an ordinary evening. But I had to leave early. I recently returned to Ukraine and haven’t managed to find a job yet. I can’t afford a taxi, and I live quite far away, so I had to say goodbye to my friends and catch one of the last minibuses home. And then, just as we were crossing a bridge… Ballistic missiles. No warning. No time to react. No chance to find shelter. Explosions literally overhead. The sounds of air defence interceptions were so close that it felt as though everything was happening right next to my ear. And only after it had already happened did the air raid alert arrive. Thank you. Perfect timing. You’re simply trying to get home. On public transport. After an ordinary evening with friends. And a second later, you could be dead. And perhaps the most frightening thing is how unpredictable all of this has become, how deeply it has become part of our everyday lives. I can already feel the psychological consequences of living under this constant threat. And now I’m learning that a Russian strike has hit a nine-storey residential building. There’s a fire. There were people inside. Kyiv Mayor Vitali Klitschko has already confirmed the strike. Many people have no electricity. They’re sitting in dark apartments, trying to survive yet another night of Russian terror. And just imagine. Someone came home from work tonight. Someone had dinner with their family. Someone put their children to bed. Someone simply lay down, hoping to wake up tomorrow. And then a Russian missile struck. And we don’t even know yet how many people won’t wake up tomorrow. This is what our lives look like. While somewhere in the world people discuss cheaper oil, profitable deals, and economic interests, Ukrainians are paying for this war with their own blood. We are not talking about abstract geopolitics. We are talking about people who simply wanted to get home. People who wanted to fall asleep in their own beds. People who wanted to live another day. And I want everyone who talks about the economic benefits of doing business with Russia to stop for just one second and think about the human cost of those so-called “benefits.” Because for you, it might just be a number at the gas pump. For us, it’s another night we might not survive.