This is my dad, Kyrylo. He turned 75 on February 23.
He and my mom don’t want to leave Kyiv, although I’ve been talking about it with them since the first day of the war.
Before the war broke out, my dad maintained a few habits from his bohemian youth: enjoying life—though at this point it’s online—, going to bed in the morning and getting up after lunch.
Now, he wakes up at dawn every day, hops into his old Peugeot, and delivers food and medicine to those who need it. Even though he could easily be on the list of those who need rather than those who deliver.
In short, I’m proud of my dad.