Where were you that morning when the great war began? Here’s my story: The war spoke to me with the distant rumble of explosions outside the window, but I didn’t believe it, thinking I was living a dream. Then, on the second floor of my friends’ house near Kyiv, the door slammed shut, and slippers clattered down the stairs. “The war has started, the airspace has been closed,” said Katia, the owner of the house. She mentioned the airspace because I was supposed to fly to Vilnius two hours later to present the translation of my novel. Her voice, after sleep, seemed rough and masculine, hoarse an…