'Old rules are destroyed' As bombs fall, Kharkiv tends its flowerbeds and forges new bonds

Under the late spring sun on Saturday afternoon, these were some of the sounds to be heard in Kharkiv's Shevchenko Park: birds chirruping; young couples laughing over iced coffees; tinny pop music playing from speakers mounted on lampposts; pensioners gossiping on the benches; and, at 11 minutes to three, a prolonged explosion that reverberated in the chest like a rumble of thunder.

- Shaun Walker

A few miles away, in a quiet residential suburb, a glide bomb launched from a Russian fighter jet had smashed into a courtyard. As the resulting boom reached the park, people stopped in their tracks for a split second, then continued on, as if nothing had happened.

The explosion destroyed several houses and wounded six people. On Sunday, hits on a park and a recreation complex killed 11. On Tuesday, a fleet of kamikaze drones attacked, with more people requiring medical attention. North of the city, a new Russian offensive had reached the town of Vovchansk, forcing thousands of people to flee, with many arriving at a humanitarian hub on the outskirts of Kharkiv.

But despite the daily air terror and the Russian troops on the move 20 miles away, life goes on in Ukraine's second city. School lessons take place on subway platforms, theatre performances in basement shelters. The dolphinarium puts on three shows a day for watching families and the occasional group of recuperating soldiers. A vibrant restaurant and bar scene continues, and on Saturday there are musical options from a classical concert to a rave.

Nina Khyzhna, a 31-year-old Kharkiv-born actor and theatre director, left for an artistic residency in Austria early in the war. But she returned to Kharkiv last spring and is determined to stay. In Europe, the sense of safety felt illusory, she said. "Doing theatre here makes so much more sense. The audience have heard the same explosions in the night, their houses have shaken from the same shockwaves," she said, during a break in rehearsals for a new play.

For her, there is a strange silver lining to living under constant tension. "The closeness of death every day clarifies your perception and pulls away the things that aren't meaningful," she said.