I have with me no children, or grandchildren, or great grandchildren. There are some relatives, but they are beyond the demarcation line, in Donetsk.
I do not go crazy with loneliness here in Krasnogorovka with the help of my cat Toby. As soon as it starts to bum, he runs to me, and together we hide.
I don’t wish anyone such a life in an old age. In the morning we go out into the street, they just say where was something damaged by shelling. And we just don’t know whether we will survive or not.
A lot of shells fell around my yard, and there are huge funnels in the garden. The largest in size is four meters long and almost two meters deep. All these are the consequences of the shelling in 2014.
In general, it was one continuous nightmare, in a moment people lost everything that had been acquired.
We had a "Zaporozhets" car in the garage - it was smashed along with the garage. The house is broken; the wind runs freely in it.
One day which I will never forget. I stood at the entrance to the house, but didn’t have time to go inside. There was an explosion. I began to crawl back, and fragments of window glass fell on me, right in the fingers.
I don’t know how miraculously I crawled to the house. Another fragment fell into the leg, a dozen - into the back. I stayed in the hospital for a month and a half.
When quoting a story, a reference to the source – the Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation – is mandatory, as follows:
The Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation https://civilvoicesmuseum.org/