26 March 2025
Franky Verdickt studied photography at the Luca School of Arts and resides in Brussels. His work reflects a deep interest in and concern for geopolitical issues and climate change. He works as a photojournalist and also make documentary work, commissioned or otherwise, for various media outlets (such as Knack; De Morgen, Trends). His work is exhibited and published both nationally and internationally.
In this photo series, taken in 2022, he follows families travelling to or from Charkiv by train.



March 13, 2022, Medyka (border with Ukraine)
The Russian invasion of Ukraine has caused the largest refugee crisis in Europe since World War II, with approximately 6 million Ukrainians fleeing their homes. Most refugees are women and mothers with children, as men aged 18 to 60 are not allowed to leave the country. Over half of all children in Ukraine have fled, either to the safer western regions of Ukraine or to other parts of Europe. This photo captures the war three weeks into its start, as an unceasing stream of refugees crosses the border at Medyka, Poland. The mother and her son, after a long train journey from Kharkiv—a major city near Ukraine’s eastern border with Russia— have finally made it into the safety of Poland. She has had to leave most of her loved ones behind. Much sadness and fear lie ahead.
April 15, 2022, Uzhhorod-Kharkiv train
The night train departing from Uzhhorod, a sleepy town near the Slovakian border, is half-full at departure. Its destination is Kharkiv, on Ukraine’s eastern border with Russia. After an 18-hour journey, the train reaches Kyiv, where the other half of the train fills up, marking the midpoint of the trip. Many passengers have spent a few weeks in the safer western parts of Ukraine, staying with family or renting accommodations. But their money has run out, and many are now unemployed. The train is stiflingly hot, privacy is scarce, and it moves at a painfully slow pace. An uneasy silence pervades, even among the children on board.




April 15, 2022, Uzhhorod-Kharkiv train
The war is far from over—it has been raging for two months. Yet, every day, tens of thousands of Ukrainians return home. A young boy, his younger brother, and their mother are on their way back to Kharkiv. The next morning, I find myself approached by nearly everyone on the train. I am a Belgian photojournalist, and the passengers share their stories with me. Tales of horrors emerge—men castrated and women raped by Russian soldiers. Photos of destroyed homes are shown. This is a train full of trauma. The passengers are heading to Kharkiv, which is still under heavy bombardment. We are traveling straight into a war zone.
April 19, 2022, Kharkiv metro
This photo was taken two months into the war. Kharkiv, located just 20 km from the Russian border, is being relentlessly bombed. A large portion of the city’s population has fled, while others have gone underground, living in Kharkiv’s metro system for two months with entire families. Parts of the metro also serve as bomb shelters against nuclear attacks. While it provides physical safety, the psychological toll of living underground is immense. Still, enduring the constant sound of bombs and air raid sirens above ground is even more unbearable. Teachers visit the metro regularly to provide education, entertainers come to amuse the children, and psychologists offer support. Despite everything, children find ways to adapt, turning the space into a playground—even if the metro cars date back to the Soviet era.
