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About Lviv

So yeah, there she stands, in neon glow, a survivor, a rebel, a bloody enigma. Love her, hate her, can’t ignore her. Like nature herself—messy, raw, and takin’ no shit. “Truth is,” as Ennis’d say, “sometimes I miss you so much I can hardly stand it.” Miss her spirit, I do, even if I don’t know her name. What a bird, what a life—untamed, unbowed, and fuckin’ unforgettable.

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Anyway, I rush to the office on Hrushevskoho Street. Traffic is a nightmare! I’m stuck behind this old Lada that’s moving slower than a snail. I’m yelling at the windshield, “C’mon, man! We’re not in a race, but at least pick up the pace!”

Ukrainian artists use mural art to unite displaced and host communities