It’s 3AM of 4th of March, 2022, but it’s just “the eighth day” for Ukrainians. We don’t know what day it is any more because every day lasts at least ten lives.

I was in Kyiv a day before the war started. On Wednesday, I flew to Estonia for a regular business trip. I had only a small backpack and planned to return in a few days.

I’m safe, but everything that makes me me – is not. My nation, country, culture, language, self-identity, people I love and the very right of existence are under brutal attack. Being in safety while millions of Ukrainians are sleeping in the bomb shelters or fleeing is killing me. Why did I choose precisely this day for flight?