The average person now spends more than 60% of their time at home — a space that has, especially in recent times, evolved into a place where people build relationships, advance their careers, pursue education, and celebrate milestones.
For Ukrainians, the meaning of home has been profoundly reshaped by Russia’s war, becoming a symbol of safety and belonging and a refuge from the trauma of invasion. When war forces people from their homes, they seek new ones in communities of like-minded individuals, where familiarity fosters trust.
Many displaced Ukrainians have found temporary homes in co-living spaces, retreat centers, and artistic residencies. But for many others, they still lack a stable sense of security.
Since the start of the full-scale invasion, Ukrainians have set up various initiatives to provide at least a temporary sense of home-like security in co-living spaces, creative residencies, and retreat guesthouses all across the country.
The stories of Ukrainians below give a glimpse into the lives of some of these community spaces where they have found refuge. In these places, the "ho(us)e," a place to spend time together for the often alienated "us,” evolves into "ho(me)," where each "me" finds a sense of belonging among like-minded people.
Vilnyy Prostir, Lviv
Embodying the spirit of Ukraine’s Euromaidan Revolution, Vilnyy prostir, a co-living network for young people and artists, was founded in 2014 after the revolution.
When asked what Vilnyy Prostir, which translates to “free space” in English, meant to her, Marichka Kravchenko describes it as a family.
Kravchenko lives at Villa Persenkivka, a project of Vilnyy Prostir. The shared space, created in 2021 to bring together artists, is located next to an abandoned railway station called Persenkivka in an industrial neighborhood of the western Ukrainian city of Lviv, hence the name.
Villa Persenkivka has become the home for seven young women who share both their joys and sorrows. The women, who moved in at the start of 2024, say they are drawn to the space not just because it’s a place to live together but for its sense of community.
The space’s residents say that people who come to see how they live, admire the co-living space they’ve created, and become interested in being a part of something similar.
The kitchen at Persenkivka is filled with numerous flower vases, various teas, and two fridges, with one dedicated to the vegetarians living in the space.
A recurring topic of conversation when speaking to co-living inhabitants is how they manage to live together without invading each other’s space. The answer is simple, they say. When someone needs solitude, they either lock themselves in their rooms or leave the house altogether. Spending quality time with housemates is just too tempting, even when they need their alone time.
Among the various roles in Persenkivka, there’s one unique position: the “cat mom.” This person is responsible for caring for Orysia, the local cat.
The house’s past residents are never forgotten. Some are remembered as family, the godparents of this space who laid the foundation for its current values. Some of them left their mark not just symbolically but physically.
Music and art are integral to life at Persenkivka. Each resident is like a melodic fragment of a greater artistic whole. This mirrors one tradition within the Vilnyy Prostir co-living network: old vinyl records painted with symbols and self-affirming quotes that can be seen around the house.
One of the walls in the house is inscribed with the words in Ukrainian, but translated here: "Each Persenkivka inhabitant follows their own creative path. They move along different roads, but they follow the same direction. They run through meadows, discovering interesting things along the way. They become objects of curiosity, hiding secrets, and covering their tracks, often going in the opposite direction."
Kravchenko says that in the evenings, all the women gather in the kitchen, “sometimes chaotically,” but every Wednesday, they have a mandatory dinner together. After eating, they sometimes sing or watch avant-garde films together.
"It’s also a great opportunity to invite others over and expand our perspectives," Kravchenko says.
One important rule at Persenkivka is no gossip. This is, perhaps, the foundation of the current Persenkivka community, where the women live their formative years together, side by side, sharing food, beds, songs, and visions of the future.
Biloberizka, Ivano-Frankivsk Oblast
Asked how his day went, Denys, whose last name is not being published as he’s in the military, replied, “Interesting.”
"Just interesting, not good or bad," he says of his time in the military since being drafted in July.
Denys has been adjusting to the new realities of his new life serving in the military. He was drafted just days after he spoke to the Kyiv Independent during a visit to the house where he lived mountains.
"My sense of home has been erased. Over the past four months, I’ve slept in up to nine different beds," he says, referring to his experience in the military.
The house in the mountains where he used to live was in Biloberizka, which Denys, while living there, named the “Room in the Mountains.” It offered a space for any like-minded guests and friends to engage in yoga, meditation, and nature-focused practices, fostering a deep connection with themselves and the surrounding nature.
During his time in the house, Denys hosted guests, organizing mini-retreats for those who needed a break from their daily lives. Now, it serves as a quiet retreat for two young women who live and work on their small businesses here.
The house feels like a visit to one’s relatives. No one arrives empty-handed, and since the local store lacks exotic fruits and vegetables, guests bring items like pineapples and avocados.
After Denys left, he left behind a tea ceremony kit, which the girls now use to organize ceremonies in the same spaces where he once drank tea. The tea-drinking ritual is accompanied by his own candle.
The Attic, Latirka, Zakarpattia Oblast
Hala Kozyutynska and Viktor Petrov bought this house in the mountains a couple of years ago to host creative residencies for artists in need of a peaceful retreat from the hustle of daily life.
In the summer, the house welcomes many more guests than during the winter. Alongside the residency, Kozyutynska and Petrov also run a video production studio and host a study group for teenagers. Though the teens are initially shocked by the lack of water and heating, by the end of their stay, they are inspired by the experience of community-building.
Nearly everyone who stays at the Attic leaves something behind — whether kitchen utensils, a pillow, or a warm sweater. These items have accumulated, filling the space with color and stories.
Guests leave their treasures knowing they will return and need them again. Others want to share their warmth with future visitors, leaving behind blankets and sweaters essential during the cold season.
Cooking here is always a collaborative process, as it’s done on an old stove that must first be heated with wood brought from outside.
At times, Kozyutynska takes on the role of woodchopper, skillfully splitting large logs into smaller pieces with her mini-axe.
"No matter what happens in life, I can leave everything and come here. This place is my stability," she says.
Marysia Myanovska
