Ada Wordsworth

‘Lots of clubs claim to be “safe spaces”,’ I was told by Anton Nazarko, the co-founder of Some People in Kharkiv, ‘but ours is probably the only one in the world that actually is.’ He was joking, but also not. The dancefloor is below ground level, with fireproof doors that have been there since the building was a refrigerator factory. This means that it could theoretically act as a shelter from the Russian missiles being fired at the city. The club, which also acts as a theatre, cinema and art gallery, was founded last summer, a year after the Russians were expelled from the Kharkiv region and the city was granted a brief respite from Russian attacks.

If Ukrainian refugees enter Poland by foot, their first experience of the European Union is likely to be the Medyka border crossing. They then walk down a short path to get a bus either to the Humanitarian Centre, in an abandoned Tesco, or to Przemyśl railway station. A man who has driven a piano from Germany plays sad music. There is a candyfloss machine, and a Frenchman dressed as pirate handing out crêpes. Members of religious sects strum ukuleles, sing kumbaya, and pray loudly at people. Turn your back on the refugees and you could almost imagine you were at Glastonbury.