Let’s begin by talking about your new book, “Smikh zhasloi vatry” (Laughter of the Extinguished Bonfire), recently released by Dukh i Litera. Could you explain the meaning behind its title? And how would you describe the evolution of your voice from your first collection to this one?

— In some sense, “Smikh zhasloi vatry” (Laughter of the Extinguished Bonfire) is a metaphor for being Ukrainian—for Ukrainian identity and the Ukrainian world. We’re like a forest that has been burned over and over again through centuries of statelessness, yet our identity keeps sprouting back, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. At the same time, the title raises questions about the nature of war and whether victory is even possible: Can there really be a victory when you consider all the lives lost and the devastation? Can we call it a victory if the war ends here but continues somewhere else?

In both cases, it’s an attempt to think about how we’ll make sense of it all. What will our laughter be like? Joyful, triumphant, bitter, ironic, hysterical? Ultimately, the title brings together ideas of death and resurrection—whether they are possible, what they mean, and how they’re experienced. These themes of peace, war, and identity, which lie at the core of the ongoing russian-Ukrainian war, are reflected in the title itself.