The Russia-Ukraine war

Polina Budagovska, 19, studies architecture at the Kyiv National University of Construction and Architecture. Originally from the city of Donetsk in eastern Ukraine, she started drawing as a child and would take art classes after school.

In 2014, when war broke out between Russian-backed separatists and Ukrainian forces, Polina and her family were forced to flee Donetsk. They eventually relocated to the capital Kyiv where Polina continued to draw, mostly portraits and nature. When Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, Polina’s family was displaced for the second time and she decided to capture her feelings and experiences through drawings made on an iPad. Polina plans to use her visual art skills in the future as an architect and she hopes to build new homes for Ukrainians when the war is over.

In these drawings, Polina shares her story of being displaced twice by war in Ukraine.

May 25, 2014: I was 12 years old and had graduated that day from the sixth grade in Donetsk. We had a Farewell Bell which is a traditional celebration of the end of the school year where a student walks among the others ringing a bell to mark the upcoming holidays.

I was planning to spend the summer with friends, enjoying the warm days, taking classes in art, contemporary dance and jazz funk, and forgetting all about homework.

When I got home, my mother told me to start packing my things, and that we needed to leave. It was unexpected. I felt something terrible was happening because my mother was upset. I had never seen this kind of sadness in her eyes before. My happiness vanished immediately, and I became concerned. I didn’t understand what was going on. I felt lost.

I went to the bedroom window when all of a sudden, I heard a thunderous noise. My mom rushed over, asking me not to panic and explaining that there were explosions at the airport.

I was too young to understand who was shelling or why. I never expected that such danger could be so close. And I didn’t realise that it was our last day in our beautiful house and garden where my three-year-old sister and I played on swings and where we had barbeques with friends. It was the start of an ongoing war that stole my home.

My parents’ decision to flee Donetsk was made quickly as the fighting was nearing the city and it was not safe to stay. We quickly packed the most essential items. I packed clothes, my phone, my iPad and other things and got into the car.

My parents told my sister and me that we were going to the seaside for a couple of weeks.

It was a long journey, about five hours by car. My parents were exhausted. They agonised over our future and had endless phone calls with family and friends. It was heartbreaking to see the fatigue in their eyes.

We arrived at the seaside near Berdiansk in southeastern Ukraine on the Sea of Azov late that evening.

I still didn’t fully appreciate our situation as my parents didn’t speak about the shelling or any developments in front of me to avoid upsetting me.

So I saw the journey as an adventure. I found new friends in a new place, and together, we enjoyed the summer. I was too young to understand how complicated and sad our situation had become. It was almost like any other summer for me. I didn’t understand why my parents were so sad at times.

With the end of summer and the start of autumn approaching, my parents began talking about my schooling. They didn’t talk about the fighting, and I didn’t ask about it. But we couldn’t return home.

Our family was then divided. My parents took me to live with my grandparents in Sloviansk in the Donetsk region so I could continue school. My father left for Kyiv to work as an engineer while my mom and little sister left for Sviatohirsk, also in the Donetsk region, where my mom started working for a humanitarian organisation.

Somehow, I enjoyed this period because I love my grandparents.

While staying with them, I became more independent. I made many great friends in my new school, and I lived a normal life. But I missed my parents and sister.

Later that year, my mom and sister went to Kyiv, and they started looking for an apartment for the whole family while I stayed with my grandparents.

In late 2014, my parents found an apartment in Kyiv and started renovating it. They did everything themselves while living in the apartment. They removed the old wallpaper, renewed the floor, fixed the electricity, and so on. After one month, the apartment was ready and I could rejoin my family.

The car trip from Sloviansk to Kyiv was very long. My mom drove for nine hours. But the journey gave me a chance to reflect on my past and imagine my future in a new place.

When we entered Kyiv, I was amazed by the size of the city. It was incredibly big and beautiful. I had the sense that we were driving through the city for hours. I admired the architecture, the beautiful river, and the great bridges connecting both sides of Kyiv.

While driving, the beauty and greatness of Kyiv inspired me to become an architect.

Arriving in Kyiv was one of the happiest moments in my life because I had missed my family. I was thrilled to be with my parents and my sister. My family life had restarted!

New school, new people, new home. It took some time to adapt, but soon I realised that I felt very comfortable living in Kyiv. I had a happy life and began to forget the war.

February 24, 2022: I woke up to the sound of explosions. My sister and I were in bed, and my mom came and told us to stay calm and quickly pack our essential belongings – clothes, laptop and hygiene items. We had to leave. Again, after eight years – déjà vu.

Our apartment was on the eighth floor of a 30-storey building and we were afraid that such a high building could be a target. We heard explosions but had no idea how long they would last or where the rockets could fall.

We took the stairs to get down rather than risk taking the elevator. It seemed like we spent ages going down. It was terrifying and I was scared. I had a feeling that something terrible was coming. Unfortunately, I wasn’t wrong.

We left our building and got into our car. So many neighbours were running to their cars with bags, pets, suitcases and other belongings. It was dreadful. Nobody could believe that Kyiv, beautiful Kyiv, could be under attack. But tragically, our beloved city had become a target.

We had to get to a safe place. I didn’t want to leave my home, and I hoped to come back soon.

While driving west to Lviv we saw many people in the streets. It was a mess. People didn’t know what to do or where to go. Many cars were trying to leave Kyiv, and we spent lots of time stuck in traffic. It was terrible to see panicked, desperate people and realise that there was uncertainty ahead.

I read the news on my phone in the car and learned about the terrible Russian air attacks on cities in Ukraine. I was shocked by how much suffering Russia was bringing to millions of civilians.

Beautiful cities were being bombed, and apartment buildings, hospitals, and other places were being destroyed. So many innocent people were being killed for no reason. And the killing has not stopped. It is terrible. It is incomprehensible that this is our new reality.

Finally, we arrived at a hostel in Lviv. It took us two days to cover the 550km (342 miles) from Kyiv. We had to stop at night as it was not safe to continue in case of an air raid. Besides, checkpoints were installed in various regions, which slowed the traffic.

It was challenging to find accommodation, but we were lucky to get a room in a hostel with a good bomb shelter, which I had supposed we wouldn’t need. I was wrong.

Though there have been fewer attacks on Lviv than elsewhere, so far, air raid sirens are our everyday reality. We know what to do when there are sirens, how to get to the bomb shelter, when it is possible to leave and what things we should always keep with us.

After one month, I’m used to going to the shelter; it’s heartbreaking to see my little sister’s terror when she hears the sirens. It pains me to see her take her backpack filled with her toys and her phone and rush to the shelter. Children shouldn’t have such experiences. Sadly, they do in Kyiv, Kharkiv, Mariupol, Volnovakha, Zaporizhzhia, and many other places in Ukraine.

War is the most terrible thing in the world.