The taxi came at 5.15. Dawn had broken, the stray dogs were awake and the first marshrutkas were running from the suburbs. I saw a stack of watermelons in a cage by the side of the road, someone staggering out of a 24-hour alcohol shop, and blonde haired women sweeping street corners. "Kyiv, Kyiv, Kyiv," called the minibus drivers. "Taxi? Taxi? Taxi?" ringing in my ear until I finally stepped onboard. Sweat trickled down my back. Another Odessa morning was only just beginning.