Lillian thought I was going to cover the crisis. And I was, but Lillian didn’t know about Oxana, and Oxana didn’t know about Lillian.
The magazine I worked for refused to send me to Ukraine. “The crisis is going to be over in a blink of an eye,” my editor said. “What good can come out of you being there?”
Boy, she was wrong. And also, so right.
I decided to go at my own expense. The turmoil was just starting and as a junior photojournalist, I could make a name for myself. I could become a war correspondent. Why not? The problem was that I didn’t know anything about wars. Or Ukraine. Or life. Or being honest, for that matter.