Carl Larson

In June 2022, I found myself perched precariously on the second-story roof of an abandoned house in the far east of Ukraine, listening to Russian mortar rounds impact closer and closer. As I risked a broken neck or worse trying to get mobile service, I caught myself laughing at the surreal, impossible nature of where I was. I could be back in Seattle with my beautiful wife, working at my comfortable IT job, building my even more comfortable future. Instead, here I was, 10 meters up in the air in far northeastern Ukraine...