Ukraine 2024# Christmas, Parent Approval Test (Patreon)

I’m really glad I started sharing little everyday film shots here.

My usual routine is simple: I shoot something, send it for developing, wait like an excited child, fall in love with the results… and then forget they exist. I almost never go back to look at what I’ve shot. Maybe these frames aren’t “high art,” but they hold emotions, memories, and pieces of life I would’ve lost otherwise. And thanks to you, I’m finally revisiting them - feeling that forgotten “old warmth” again.

Today’s selection is a set of strange photos from my homeland.

Yes, I know - they look a bit depressing. But in my defense, it was December 2024: winter, grey skies, cold wind. Not exactly the most flattering season for Ukraine. But it’s my home. My family is there. And it’s the place my future husband had to visit - a very real compatibility test. If he survives Ukrainian winter, our roads, and my family - well, then he’s probably the one 😅

After our trip to Japan, Gary came to Ukraine to meet my parents - so they’d finally know who I keep disappearing abroad with, and who to file a police report on if anything ever happens to me 😅.

I was nervous about his visit, honestly. My parents don’t speak English, my dad is quiet and introverted, my apartment was very modest, my cat has a… complicated personality, and Kyiv in winter is, well… you can see the photos. Plus the sirens at night and everything that comes with them. And yet Gary turned out to be a tough nut. Everything went surprisingly well.

We even traveled to Mykolaiv - my hometown.

I hadn’t been there since the beginning of the war. But a big part of my close family still lives there: my mom, my aunt, my cousin, my grandpa, my uncle. It felt important to introduce Gary not only to my parents but to the people who shaped my life and feel like my core. Seeing Mykolaiv again wasn’t easy - the city looks tired, damaged, heavy. But it’s still my place. And going back, even briefly, meant something to me.

What surprised me most was watching Gary photograph everything.

At first, I felt embarrassed - I couldn’t see any beauty in the things around us. After the war, sometimes it even hurt to look. But when I later saw his photos, I realized I simply got used to it all. My eyes had stopped noticing. His images captured the atmosphere, the everyday life, the reality of where we were - and I suddenly saw my own country from the outside again.

It’s so easy to adapt to your surroundings.

So easy to stop seeing. I’ve now lived in Cabo San Lucas for almost a year, and I already feel how rarely my hands reach for the camera. Nothing shocks me anymore, nothing feels new - because this place has become home.

And now I keep wondering.... When I was in Ukraine, I couldn’t see any beauty around me because I had simply gotten used to everything. And now, after living in Cabo for almost a year, I feel the same — nothing shocks me anymore, nothing feels new, and I barely reach for my camera. It made me realize how quickly the feeling of “home” turns into comfort, and how comfort slowly erases curiosity. Home is where you exhale, where your body softens, where you finally relax. But inspiration often comes from the opposite state — from newness, excitement, emotional tension.

So I keep asking myself: is it even possible to have both at the same time? To feel at home and still feel inspired? To be grounded but still see the world with fresh eyes? Or is inspiration simply something that belongs to movement, travel, new places, and new emotions?

I don’t know the answer yet. But I’m trying to find out.