Haunted by Wars: From Kosovo to Kharkiv

In the stillness of an abandoned Kharkiv home, the echoes of war merge with my memories of Kosovo—each a haunting reminder of humanity’s enduring pain.

In a quiet, cavernous room, lit only by the faint, almost eerie glow of a chandelier, I found myself in a house that had once been full of life. Now, it stands empty, abandoned by a family fleeing the relentless horrors of war. The house, located in Kharkiv, tells a story of loss, of terror, and of survival. The memories that linger in its corridors are heavy with the past—a past that echoes with the same terror that I knew as a child in Kosovo, and that many are now living through in Ukraine.

I came to this house through a web of connections, friends of friends of friends. I found myself surrounded by the remnants of a family's life—a family shattered by Russia's full-scale invasion in 2022. Some members of this family were killed, others managed to escape the unspeakable horrors and made it back to England. And as I sit here, in the stillness of this once vibrant home, I feel the weight of their absence. It is a weight that brings tears to my eyes, tears that flow not only for them but for every soul who has been forced to flee their home, for every family torn apart by the cruel hand of war.

A young boy waves solemnly from behind a weathered train window, his eyes reflecting the weight of a war-torn childhood. Beside him, a girl forms a heart with her hands, a fleeting gesture of hope amid the despair. As they are evacuated from Donetsk, the train carries these children away from the violence, echoing the same spirit of resilience and survival that One Life so poignantly portrays. This moment, like many others in war, is a stark reminder of the innocence lost and the fragile hope that endures. (Photograph by Vudi Xhymshiti, The Guardian)