Poignant questions. Poignant answers. ’24 Ukrainians in our lives.’ A moving and insightful exhibition created by storyteller Mette Foged and photographer Liselotte Plenov.
It is very generous of the 24 Ukrainians in Denmark to share their stories with us.

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Short version: exhibition billboards. Fuller description: Row of billboards on square, glimpse of cathedral beyond. Street scene. Closest billboard has photo of Maxim, an 18-year-old man with dark hair and white shirt, arms folded, looking at us, smiling. On other billboards, we see an older woman and a young boy. This is from the exhibition in Aarhus, Denmark, on the square by the Domkirken (cathedral). I took the photos in passing in recent weeks. I don’t know if the exhibition is still on show.

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Billboard. Beyond, a person carrying a bouquet of flowers and a bookshop window display. Text on billboard:
‘What surprised me about Denmark’
Driverless trains, beauty of the cities, the many recreational areas - squares, parks, and lakes with swans.
“What I carry with Me From Ukraine”
I carry memories of our home in Ukraine: the peaceful years when we gathered together as one big family, and the life we built before the war. I miss our house, now almost destroyed by drone and missile attacks. our summer house is impossible to visit, and we do not know if it still exists. I feel strongest when I remind myself to stray resilient as life challenges me daily.

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Billboard on city square in Aarhus, Denmark, glimpse of café tables and cathedral beyond. Photo of Rienata, 14 years old, white, seated, hand on chin, gazing at us, coloured wall decorations behind her. She is in dark clothes and has straight dark hair. Text around it, sorry, just an extract here due to length:
‘Who I was in Ukraine’ - an ordinary teenager in Kyiv. Travelled widely with family, open to world, eager to explore.
Everyday life: school, ballroom dancing, art, pottery, modelling, learning French.
War and Leaving: On 24 February 2022, an explosion hit near our home. Girl my age killed in city centre. Fear like I have never known filled me. Staying was impossible. At train station, panic erupted - sirens, screaming, a massive crowd. A police officer carried me on his shoulders through the chaos. I got on the train crying and terrified, clutching our little dog Lulu, as my mother struggled to reached me. The officer fired a shot into the air. In the commotion, her leg slipped under the train, and our suitcase fell onto the tracks. Luckily my mother made it, but hte suitcase was lost. It was pure horror. There were no seats, and we lay on the floor for 30 hours, hearing explosions all around. I prayed and did now know if we would survive. My stepfather, who is like a real father to me, stayed behind in Ukraine - he is a soldier.