It was good here; a lot of fishermen. The village was full of life. It stopped all at once; it ended in a moment. First, they came and planted landmines everywhere. I cannot go further than that garden. There are tripwires there. I cannot go even to my neighbour. Life has ended.
It all started like that: my wife and I were sitting on that bench when we saw some swirl of dust at our neighbour’s place and heard some noise. We got up, two old fools, rushed to the greenhouse to watch what was exploding there. Only when it got closer, we got into the cellar. There had been already four explosions.
Then, the shelling started. Some 80 mm mortars, I think, and a series of explosions. My wife said: ‘Quick, get to the shed!’ We ran. I turned and bent down when the shell hit somewhere close. It hit me on my back and one bloody piece pierced through.
Where to go? The hospitals did not work then; there was nothing; absolutely nothing; it was impossible to call for an ambulance. There was no electricity. Where to go? My wife is a doctor, so she put something on, I do not know, maybe some clay. That was it.
The fire was the scariest one. Everything around was burning; a pillar of flame, about 20 metres high. The grass was dry. So, that is how we live and wonder how to live out our life. But where to go? Who needs us? I have not seen people for months. There is no one within 300-400 metres.
What do I hope for? For things to get better. So that I could go to the town normally as I used to. If they made the road... For me to stay in touch with my family, my children.
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