On Lukyanivska Square, in the most bombed neighborhood of Kiev, the white letters on a busy McDonald's have melted from a fire that engulfed a nearby shopping mall during the last major attack, on May 24, the British newspaper The Guardian reports today.
Yet inside, the restaurant is packed with customers – until an air raid siren sounds, forcing staff and customers to descend the escalators to the adjacent metro station and seek shelter deep underground. In the latest attack, part of the metro station’s ceiling collapsed and the platforms were covered in a cloud of dust, the Guardian reported in an article on its website.
That McDonald's has been damaged three times this year alone (one Kyiv resident jokingly says the chain's distinctive golden arches logo has become a "symbol of resistance"). On heat maps showing the frequency of airstrikes in Kyiv, the area around Lukyanivska Square, as well as the wider Shevchenkivskyi district, stand out for the high concentration of strikes over the past four years.
Locals say the situation has only gotten worse in recent months. In a large, sprawling city where traces of wartime destruction are easily lost sight of, this part of Kiev looks more like a scene from somewhere much closer to the front line.
The alleged reason for this lies across the busy street from the metro entrance: the long, red, shattered facade of the ruined "Artem" factory, a former weapons factory, now mostly destroyed and partially covered by a huge mural.
But the recent mass strikes have hit civilian buildings. The glass tower that looms over the street like the prow of a ship has lost many of its windows. Two burned-out cars sit by the curb. The entrance hall of the metro, which has been hit five times, is boarded up in large areas as passersby pause to look at the burned and destroyed building.
Apart from the station and restaurants, most of the activity in the neighborhood is now centered around a small series of flower and vegetable stalls in the market that is still open under one of the destroyed buildings.
Anastasija Primak, a 23-year-old manager who lives in one of the nearby skyscrapers, drinks coffee before going to work.
"I moved to Kiev from Nikopol two years ago because of the constant bombing there. Now in recent months we have had massive bombings here," she tells the Guardian.
The first was a drone attack on the roof of a nearby apartment building on April 28th.
"I thought I heard planes. Then I told myself it couldn't be planes because of the war. Then I looked outside and saw an explosion on the roof. I was diagnosed with severe anxiety disorder. I feel anxious all the time, even for no reason, and I have panic attacks," says Primak.
She opens a photo on her phone showing the view from her apartment window. Below, the building is burning, flames shooting out of the windows like jets.
"Last month there were these huge strikes. My boyfriend took me to a shelter, and I prayed even though I don't believe in God. Now I'm asking my boyfriend to move us to Lviv, in western Ukraine. Then the neighborhood was hit again a few weeks ago. This is right in front of my building," she said.
Primak shows a video of destroyed buildings.
"I tell my friends it looks like Chernobyl. It's getting more and more dangerous here. I sleep curled up like an embryo because I'm afraid a drone or a missile will hit. I want to die suddenly. I don't want to lose a limb," Primak said.
In the escalating air war between Russia and Ukraine, the damage in the neighborhood serves as a warning of the direction the conflict is headed. Kremlin officials and Russian President Vladimir Putin have announced Russia's intention to launch more powerful and "systematic" attacks on Ukrainian urban areas.
The increase in Russian missile threats to Kiev and other cities comes as Moscow seeks to exploit a global shortage of missile interceptors – particularly for the Patriot system – exacerbated by the US-Israeli war against Iran.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky is seeking to secure promises of additional interceptors, warning the leaders of Britain, France and Germany during a visit to London on Sunday of the "urgent need to expand" Ukraine's air defense and deep strike capabilities.
Sitting at her flower stall, Faina Polishchuk says that although most of the vendors have returned, the customers have disappeared.
"It's dangerous. After the last mass strike in May, most of my colleagues here cried, were nervous and didn't want to come back for the first few days. But this is what I live for," she says.
She saw the last impact from the window of her apartment.
"The whole building was shaking. I then went to the shelter, where a young man came up to me and showed me on his phone what was happening. He said everything was burning."
Faina first says that she will stay, no matter what happens, and expresses optimism.
"I'm not afraid," he says, but quickly distances himself. "If it gets worse, I'll go to Vinica, my hometown."
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