Thursday
At 3am, Russian President Vladimir Putin announces he is launching "a special military operation" in eastern Ukraine.
Minutes later, missiles begin to rain down on Ukrainian cities - including Kyiv. I wake up to find the war I’ve been expecting for weeks has begun.
I’ve been staying in an apartment in the heart of the capital since February 14 because I didn't believe any of the claims that Russia was seeking dialogue.
I thought the danger for Ukrainian people was very real and I wanted to document what was happening to them.
At first, the mood is defiant. I leave my apartment and I see a man waving a Ukrainian flag. People are still on the streets. Some even manage to laugh.
But as the day wears on, the reality of what we are facing dawns. Queues for cash machines snake down the streets. I join one, but I’m only allowed to withdraw £25.
Gradually, the mood becomes more sombre. The roads out of the city are gridlocked as thousands of people head west, in the hope of seeking refuge in Poland.
Others pack their bags and head to metro stations, hoping they’ll be safe there.
Friday
The atmosphere has darkened overnight. Early in the morning, air raid sirens ring out across the city.
I hear the government is handing out rifles to citizens in a desperate bid to stave off the Russian advance. On the streets, I run into some civilians who have taken them up.
What strikes me is that these are people from completely different walks of life, from all age groups and class backgrounds.
They are defiant. They want to defend their families, and their homeland.
Outside every apartment block, I see people loading their cars with everything they own and weeping - unsure when they’ll be able to return home.
Then, I head to a metro station. Incredibly, some of the trains are still running on a limited service but every station is rammed full of people.
I feel as if I have stepped into a scene from the Second World War. It's like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Some people have brought their pets. I see dogs, cats and even a hamster.
Across the city, shops and pharmacies are closing. I have to walk two miles to buy a pizza for dinner.
Saturday
The night is disturbed by the constant sound of air raid sirens and the rumbles of gunfire.
I hear an apartment block in the city has been damaged by a missile of some sort - it’s not clear which side it has come from - so I find a driver and head there.
ATMs are starting to run out of cash now, and you can only withdraw money if you have a foreign bank account.
When I get to the apartment block, I’m relieved - but stunned - to find no one has been killed.
One side of the building has been destroyed, and there is rubble everywhere.
As I head home, I can’t help but think how far reaching the implications of this conflict will be - and Europe has yet to feel its impact.
