After fleeing the full-scale war in Ukraine, I spent three years in the Netherlands.
Although I had left the immediate danger behind, I soon realised that displacement does not end when you cross a border. Living abroad, I struggled with a persistent feeling of uprootedness. Distance from my home, language, and familiar surroundings created a different kind of insecurity—one that could not be resolved simply by being in a peaceful country.
Although I had left the immediate danger behind, I soon realised that displacement does not end when you cross a border. Living abroad, I struggled with a persistent feeling of uprootedness. Distance from my home, language, and familiar surroundings created a different kind of insecurity—one that could not be resolved simply by being in a peaceful country.
During this time, I began keeping a diary composed of short notes.
At first, writing was simply a way to give shape to emotions that often felt impossible to express.
Over time, these fragments evolved into a personal archive of displacement, documenting everyday moments,
memories, doubts, and the gradual transformation of my understanding of home.
At first, writing was simply a way to give shape to emotions that often felt impossible to express.
Over time, these fragments evolved into a personal archive of displacement, documenting everyday moments,
memories, doubts, and the gradual transformation of my understanding of home.