Our village of Oleksandrivka is located on the outskirts of Donetsk. Shelling is heard here every night, and a few days ago we could have been killed – a shell fell a few meters from our house. The sound it made was so loud that there were no words to describe.

I have to pick up shell fragments in the yard. It's a good thing the house isn't damaged. We have nowhere to go. There are six people in the house.

My granddaughter Yana takes care of her brother who suffers from cerebral palsy. She also raises her five-year-old son alone. He stopped talking out of fear. He was hysterical, screaming, "Mom, they're bombing!" He know when to hide. They can only go for a walk during the day. When they go outside, I feel so jumpy, because you can never predict what might happen next.

We can barely make ends meet. We don't have enough money for food or medicine.