The first attacks on our village began in the winter of 2015. A shell with a direct hit shattered the roof of a neighboring three-story building. Now every minute I think: if there is a shot, where will the shell fall?
My wife and I have already been injured twice. The first time a shell exploded ten meters from the house. A year later there was the second, in the same place. Shrapnel broke through the roof and wall of the house, cut the fence. We have a horseshoe on the door – it seems to have saved us from death.
We were just lucky. The coniferous corner and the children's slide that I made for my grandson shortly before the war remained untouched. But the child is three years old, and he has never been here. He only wants to come to his grandfather when the war is over.
We see our relatives very rarely, the village has been cut off from civilization for a long time. Only recently bus service was restored to Mariupol. Twice a week, we can go out to the pharmacy or store, get a pension. Our stores are closed, and bread is brought every other day.