Hydrangea
During the first year of the war in Ukraine, I felt like life had come to a standstill, caught in a state of waiting.
For the first six months, we didn’t unpack our belongings from the suitcases, taking them out each morning and packing them back each evening. We bought almost nothing, just the bare minimum—one cup and plate for each of us, one pot for soup. We believed we would soon return to peaceful life, so there was no need to buy more.
But over time, we realized that the return would not be as swift, and we couldn’t simply pick up where we left off.
These dried flowers symbolize our peaceful life before the war, which, like them, paused at the peak of its bloom. They have dried up and cannot blossom again, just as we, Ukrainians, cannot return to the life we had before. Only by growing anew from seeds can we bloom into bright flowers once more.
For the first six months, we didn’t unpack our belongings from the suitcases, taking them out each morning and packing them back each evening. We bought almost nothing, just the bare minimum—one cup and plate for each of us, one pot for soup. We believed we would soon return to peaceful life, so there was no need to buy more.
But over time, we realized that the return would not be as swift, and we couldn’t simply pick up where we left off.
These dried flowers symbolize our peaceful life before the war, which, like them, paused at the peak of its bloom. They have dried up and cannot blossom again, just as we, Ukrainians, cannot return to the life we had before. Only by growing anew from seeds can we bloom into bright flowers once more.
