05Feb
05.02.2026 / January
Larissa Babij
Feb 5
In luxurious Lviv, where I’ve been since Sunday morning, I’ve only experienced one power outage. It lasted 2.5 hours.Read more →
Larissa Babij
Feb 5
In luxurious Lviv, where I’ve been since Sunday morning, I’ve only experienced one power outage. It lasted 2.5 hours.Read more →
October, a Kyiv metro train. All the seats are full. I am reading Valeriy Puzik’s Myslyvtsi za shchastiam (Hunting for happiness) — a collection of sketches from his military service in parts of Ukraine deoccupied from russian forces. To my left is a woman, middle-aged, neatly dyed hair, with a bag on her lap, looking at her phone. To my right — a man around 40, salt-and-pepper hair, buzz cut, good-looking. The smell of alcohol hangs in the air.
12.07.2025 / Independence or indecision by Larissa Babij
This 4th of July Claire Berlinski produced a piece of conceptual art by publishing the full text of the Declaration of Independence (with no additional comment). Eloquent, courageous, the declaration speaks for itself: a performative gesture that transformed a line of thought, stretching back to Aristotle, into action so potent that the nation it birthed lived a long, prosperous life of nearly 250 years.Read more →
26.05.2025 / This Is War by Larissa Babij
Thank you, friends, for writing to check in these past few days. It’s good to be reminded that you care. You’ve also helped me see that I should be the one to speak first if I don’t want Russia to speak for me. Read more →
23.02.2025 / As long as it takes by Larissa Babij.
I came back to Kyiv on February 12. After a month abroad, the first thing I noticed was how dirty the air was. Overnight russia had attacked Ukraine with 123 Shahed drones + 6 ballistic missiles. Missile fragments had fallen in several Kyiv neighborhoods and killed a person. Read more →
More than Fifty years ago I was “gifted” an opportunity to travel the length and breadth of the United States – literally from Portland Oregon to Portland Maine, and places in-between, in the company of two artists, then largely unknown outside their individual creative spheres; Irving Broughton, then a professor of Creative Writing at the University of Washington and publisher of a small literary quarterly and Frank Stanford, a poet from Arkansas whose early work had at that time recently been published by Irving’s Mill Mountain Press. This is one story of that journey.Read more →
Dark Places In Past Light
FIN de SIECLE
Two Thousand Eighteen was a year filled with both joy and sorrow; buoyed by success yet scarred by tragedy; suffused with hope but plagued by pessimism; our Future obfuscated by humanity’s obsession with personal gain often at the potential risk of species Omnicide. Read more →