In peacetime, my neighbors - a grandmother with a grandson - admired the scenery of the Donetsk airport from the window of their house. And last summer, their entire family died under concrete rubble in their own beds. There was a direct hit in their apartment at four in the morning, and they simply could not get out of there.
Now our nine-story building is a ghost house. The upper floors are empty, residents rarely come there. They want to come back, but they cannot, because there is so much destruction here. In one part of the house there is no water, no light, no heating.
