Thread

Just a scene from Kyiv at dusk: a gray-bearded priest with a grave expression arrives by bicycle at some crowded tourist spot, lights a cigarette, and, squinting through the smoke, plays old guitar ballads and sings into a microphone, his guitar plugged into an amplifier. In front of him, he has placed a QR code inviting passersby to donate toward a child’s medical treatment. And after such incomparable moments, how could anyone not call Kyiv a great city?