I walked through the city center with my wife, and with my son on my shoulders. Cafes, street musicians, dancers — swing in the center square, and tango on the porch of a small unexpected corner coffee shop near the Dominican church – it’s statues lit blue, purple and pink.
People everywhere. Trams. Young couples sitting on park benches.
Lviv is everything Paris used to be, and pretends like it still is.
Now we are home. I’ve build a fortress for my son out of couch cusions. Outside the open window, we can hear girls singing a Ukrainian folk songs. We couldn’t spot them when we looked out the window, though they seem quite close.