We were at a ­village meeting. Everyone there had invited Ukrainian refugees to their homes. Half of us were still waiting for our guests to arrive, the rest were already in the thick of it and the idea was that we should share our ­experiences. One woman told us that she had a nine-year-old boy staying, who never spoke and refused to leave his mother’s side for a single moment. Another said that the young woman in her house was completely unable to sleep, for anxiety. We heard of another who had said that she was terribly, inconsolably lonely: “Why am I here? I have lost everything – my family, my home, my friends, my job, my country ...”