I am writing this text on the night of 7-8 March in Lviv. This is the fourth year of my living in Lviv, and I met the war here. It seems that my whole life has passed since my mother's morning call. She told me that “we are being bombed.” My life and the lives of everyone around me have broken down and will not be the same as before. But we will live somehow. I would like to share with the readers of Commons my observations on how a new life emerges in my city. I know that the next breakdown can happen even before I finish this text, so am writing quite in a hurry.<\/p>\n
On the first day of the war, I wanted to start recording what was happening to me and around me, but between air-raid alarms, panic attacks, and the transportation of my family from Kyiv to Lviv, I could not put my words into sentences. On the third day, I put myself together, as did colleagues ready to interview Lviv residents who had been living here before the war started. After consulting with colleagues who worked in Donbas on how to collect data, with no theoretical background, no time, no energy, we started asking people for interviews. We ask the people of Lviv about their past and new everyday affairs, about the type of activism they have now joined, and how their political views are changing. This work is not yet complete, but in these notes, I have already relied on the recent in-depth interviews, my own observations, and several diaries shared by the citizens.<\/p>\n
Lviv has become a key hub for receiving refugees. Similar processes have taken place throughout all of Western Ukraine, but so far I can only talk about the city where I personally interact with people and see them with my own eyes. The fear of generalizations will be discussed later, and for now, I will simply outline the geography of my reflections. What has happened to Lviv during the last two weeks?<\/p>\n
I'll start with the housing issue. The city housing market is split into two parts. The first is the commercial housing market. Despite the mayor's calls to impose a moratorium on rent, prices have risen several times depending on the landlords’ appetites. The free market has shown itself as it is. People fleeing the bombings will be left homeless if they cannot pay $1000 for a small apartment. Another part of the market shows the opposite tendency. Many landlords leave the "old" price because they know that instead of three tenants they now have ten. Some apartments left by those who went abroad became shelters. District administrations, schools, and other municipal institutions, as well as offices and yoga studios, become temporary housing places for thousands of refugees, their children, and animals.<\/p>\n
There is a redistribution of wealth impossible to imagine before the attacks on Kyiv, Kharkiv, and other cities. Similar processes occur to varying degrees with clothing, food, cars, and other basic goods, including psychological support.<\/p>\n
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