<p class="title">Steaming milk with a borrowed coffee maker, 19-year-old Ukrainian barista Ivan Denchenko rushed to make enough Americanos and lavender lattes for a growing line of customers.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Six days after he and two friends started selling coffee from a ground-floor window in the western city of Lviv, word of mouth had spread and their chicken and pineapple pie slices were fast running out.</p>.<p class="bodytext">A few customers had posted on social media that young entrepreneurs from the ravaged Kyiv outskirts had opened the business, and many wanted to help.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Between two orders, Denchenko recounted how he and his friend Serhii Stoian, 31, fled the capital in the early hours of Russia's invasion on February 24.</p>.<p class="bodytext">After weeks of volunteering in Lviv to help others like them, he and Stoian ran out of money and decided to find work.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"I found only one job," said Denchenko, a second-year political science student. It paid the equivalent of $15 for a 12-hour shift.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Stoian, an online entrepreneur and YouTuber, had a better idea.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Before the war, they had both worked for a coffee shop in Bucha, the first brewing coffee and the second supplying it with fresh pastries.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Stoian had long dreamt of selling his baked goods in his own cafe in his hometown of Irpin, but had no funds and feared making losses.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"But now we don't have anything to lose," he said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">With no money to pay rent, and barely enough cash to purchase ingredients, they opened the Kiit cafe, naming it after the cat Stoian was forced to leave behind.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"The people of Lviv are very helpful. They gave us almost everything you can see here," he said, gesturing to a loaned microwave and donated cartons of oat milk.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Their friend Daryna Mazur, 21, a fourth-year student in applied mathematics, travelled back from temporary exile in Poland to help.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"I was going to be a programmer, but now I'm baking pies," she said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Russia's invasion of Ukraine has displaced more than 10 million people inside the country and abroad, the United Nations says.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Many have left with little more than a backpack or two, abandoning homes, belongings, pets and jobs.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The conflict has killed thousands and wrecked entire towns, including those where Stoian and Denchenko once lived.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Denchenko said he was lucky he had escaped the Russian occupation of his hometown of Borodyanka.</p>.<p class="bodytext">His parents and 12-year-old sister barely escaped alive a week after he left.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Their apartment had been destroyed, he said. As for the family house, who knew what remained inside after looting.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Stoian said he had returned home to Irpin to find his flat windowless, and clear traces of people having rummaged around inside.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Kiit, his beloved cat, was nowhere to be found.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Instead, he bumped dumbfounded into a neighbour clearly wearing one of his hoodies. It was unclear how they had found it.</p>.<p class="bodytext">But in the bustling centre of Lviv, clients trickled up to the coffee shop counter, examining a menu above a bunch of daffodils.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Olga Milkhasieva had come to make an order with her husband Rostislav and her five-month-old son Maksym.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"We just wanted to support these guys because we know what's happening," said the young mother, also an evacuee from Kyiv.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Elina, a 31-year-old bank employee from Lviv who did not give her second name, said it was her first time out in the city centre since the war had started.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"It's very hard to drink coffee as if nothing matters," she said, fingers clasped around a steaming cup of caffeine.</p>.<p class="bodytext">She said she cried every day reading the news on social media.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"But we understand that life continues, and we must support businesses and the economy," she said.</p>
<p class="title">Steaming milk with a borrowed coffee maker, 19-year-old Ukrainian barista Ivan Denchenko rushed to make enough Americanos and lavender lattes for a growing line of customers.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Six days after he and two friends started selling coffee from a ground-floor window in the western city of Lviv, word of mouth had spread and their chicken and pineapple pie slices were fast running out.</p>.<p class="bodytext">A few customers had posted on social media that young entrepreneurs from the ravaged Kyiv outskirts had opened the business, and many wanted to help.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Between two orders, Denchenko recounted how he and his friend Serhii Stoian, 31, fled the capital in the early hours of Russia's invasion on February 24.</p>.<p class="bodytext">After weeks of volunteering in Lviv to help others like them, he and Stoian ran out of money and decided to find work.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"I found only one job," said Denchenko, a second-year political science student. It paid the equivalent of $15 for a 12-hour shift.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Stoian, an online entrepreneur and YouTuber, had a better idea.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Before the war, they had both worked for a coffee shop in Bucha, the first brewing coffee and the second supplying it with fresh pastries.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Stoian had long dreamt of selling his baked goods in his own cafe in his hometown of Irpin, but had no funds and feared making losses.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"But now we don't have anything to lose," he said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">With no money to pay rent, and barely enough cash to purchase ingredients, they opened the Kiit cafe, naming it after the cat Stoian was forced to leave behind.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"The people of Lviv are very helpful. They gave us almost everything you can see here," he said, gesturing to a loaned microwave and donated cartons of oat milk.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Their friend Daryna Mazur, 21, a fourth-year student in applied mathematics, travelled back from temporary exile in Poland to help.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"I was going to be a programmer, but now I'm baking pies," she said.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Russia's invasion of Ukraine has displaced more than 10 million people inside the country and abroad, the United Nations says.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Many have left with little more than a backpack or two, abandoning homes, belongings, pets and jobs.</p>.<p class="bodytext">The conflict has killed thousands and wrecked entire towns, including those where Stoian and Denchenko once lived.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Denchenko said he was lucky he had escaped the Russian occupation of his hometown of Borodyanka.</p>.<p class="bodytext">His parents and 12-year-old sister barely escaped alive a week after he left.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Their apartment had been destroyed, he said. As for the family house, who knew what remained inside after looting.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Stoian said he had returned home to Irpin to find his flat windowless, and clear traces of people having rummaged around inside.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Kiit, his beloved cat, was nowhere to be found.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Instead, he bumped dumbfounded into a neighbour clearly wearing one of his hoodies. It was unclear how they had found it.</p>.<p class="bodytext">But in the bustling centre of Lviv, clients trickled up to the coffee shop counter, examining a menu above a bunch of daffodils.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Olga Milkhasieva had come to make an order with her husband Rostislav and her five-month-old son Maksym.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"We just wanted to support these guys because we know what's happening," said the young mother, also an evacuee from Kyiv.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Elina, a 31-year-old bank employee from Lviv who did not give her second name, said it was her first time out in the city centre since the war had started.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"It's very hard to drink coffee as if nothing matters," she said, fingers clasped around a steaming cup of caffeine.</p>.<p class="bodytext">She said she cried every day reading the news on social media.</p>.<p class="bodytext">"But we understand that life continues, and we must support businesses and the economy," she said.</p>