I stand in the middle of a huge hall in Korczowa, close to the border with Ukraine at Poland’s A4 highway. It used to be a duty-free shopping zone selling building materials that was later turned into storage space; a shed made of corrugated sheet metal, one of many at the borderland. When Russia attacked Ukraine, and masses of refugees fled west, the hall filled with donations, camp beds and human suffering. This is one of the provisional reception centres where refugees can find respite.
Between a medical support booth and a nappy-changing station sits Anastasiia Khilko – only yesterday, a singer and teacher at the Ukrainian National Music Academy in Kyiv. The thirty-something mother holds her head in her hands. Two boys move around by her side, ten-year-old Sasha and seven-year-old Vitia. When we talk, the boys start suggesting subjects themselves.
“Mum, show her how a tank light was shining into our window the whole night!”
