“It’s becoming harder to sell stories about Ukraine,” said one of my colleagues from an international TV crew, as we drove past bombed-out apartment blocks in the town of Borodianka, just north of Kyiv. “People are tired of this war.”
I understand. I am Ukrainian. Most of my acquaintances abroad stopped wondering whether I was dead or alive in the third week of Russia’s full-scale invasion.
I am currently working as a fixer – a translator, organiser, problem solver – for international television. This is my first visit to the villages and towns north of the capital since they were liberated. It’s a beautiful May day and the charred carcasses of houses in Makariv, Andriivka and Hostomel stand out in sharp relief against the blue sky. Poplar fluff is everywhere, looking too much like ash.
