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It isn’t yet dusk， but the sky to the south is darkening with an approaching storm as Denis Dragusevich and Zhenya Kucheryavaya play with their three small boys in a dusty apartment-building playground in 1）Slavyansk.
After pro-Russian rebels declared their own republics in eastern Ukraine this April， Slavyansk quickly became the 2）focal point of the fighting between government forces and the steadily growing 3）militias. Since the end of May， 4）Kiev’s “anti-terrorist operation” has 5）shelled the city on a near-daily basis， hitting dozens of residential buildings and reducing most of the suburb of Semyonovka to rubble.
“Everyone talks about the same thing， about when the war will end，” says Katya， who lives in a two-room apartment with her mother and her eight-year-old son， Gleb. The distribution centre where she worked has closed down， and instead she spends half the day hauling water to the apartment.
The people I speak to tell me that life here has changed 6）drastically： because of the damaged 7）infrastructure， water has been cut off for many since early June， 90% of the city lacks electricity， mobile reception is 8）elusive and some neighbourhoods no longer have gas.
Denis and Zhenya live in a two-room apartment with her father， disabled mother， sister and their three boys， a one-year-old and threeyear-old twins. The family wakes up at 9）first light； now that there is no electricity， the day ends much earlier. After a quick breakfast， Denis and Zhenya go to haul water in plastic bottles from a nearby well. Elsewhere in the city， water towers have run hoses for lines of thirsty people to fill up.
Several times a week， they buy milk at a small cottage in the city where a man keeps a cow， pig and chickens that have been abandoned by their owners. It costs 20 hryvnia （￡1） for three litres —not bad， Denis says， but more expensive than it used to be. Many products have grown pricier as food supplies have been stretched and stores have closed， with the UN estimating that seasonal vegetables are four to five times more expensive than before. The few supermarkets that have electricity are still open， but their many bare shelves portray the difficulty of delivering goods to a city under siege.
Zhenya says her biggest worry is finding food for her mother and children now that the family’s income has dropped off. She previously received 3，000 hryvnia （￡150） a month in child benefits， her parents received 2，600 hryvnia in pension payments， and Denis earned 50 to 100 hryvnia a day working at a tableware factory during winter—Slavyansk is known for its 10）ceramics—and on building sites in summer. But social payments have been cut off， the factories have shut and no one is building anything during the 11）bombardment. “Earlier， we didn’t have to 12）scrimp on the kids’ food； we bought veal， chicken， milk and sweets，” Zhenya says. “Now we go home and they say， ‘Momma， give me sweets’， and you can’t explain to a child that there’s no money.”
Zhenya says the constant fear has changed the way she looks. “If you look at my old photos， my face has completely changed，” she says.
Only one pharmacy is open， and prices there have risen， so finding medicine for her 13）diabetic mother is another constant concern.
After cooking lunch， the family typically sleeps through the afternoon， while the grandfather often goes fishing. After they get up， the parents take the boys out to play—no farther than the playground in front of their apartment building， though， in case the shelling starts. In the evenings， the neighbours sit outside the stairwell entrance and listen to the news. When it starts getting dark， it’s time to go in， eat a snack and go to bed， Denis says.
The yard smells of waste because of the nearby dumpsters， which residents leave open for the many cats and dogs that now roam the city， having been abandoned by their owners. Tens of thousands have left Slavyansk， and the fruit from apricot trees in the yard is rotting because not enough residents are left to pick it. Life in a war zone is a 14）fetid affair， first and foremost because it’s hard to flush a toilet with the precious little water you’ve managed to haul in that day.
Like many families， Denis and Zhenya have harrowing stories of the attacks they have witnessed. The most infamous of them occurred on June 8th. One shell landed in the belltower of a church. Casualty counts varied， but both sides admitted civilians had been killed， including a six-year-old girl.
When the shelling started in the distance， Denis went to look for Zhenya， who wasn’t home from her daily errands. As he was walking down Svoboda Street， he heard the whoosh of an incoming shell and dropped to the ground. A few dozen yards away， a shell hit the corner of a high-rise and two more hit the apartment building next door， sending bricks flying.
“There was no fear or surprise， just emotion，‘What are you doing， you dogs？ When will it end？ Bastards！’” Denis recounts.
When the shelling starts， Denis and Zhenya take the kids into the entryway of their apartment or the bathroom. The others stay with 15）Babushka in one of the bedrooms where Denis has piled four mattresses against the windows. When the shelling started around 8pm on a recent evening， he took the cushions off the couch and they slept in the entryway. Otherwise， the family sleeps all five together in one bed. One of the twins， Yaroslav， often cries and is almost always in one of the adults’ arms ever since a shell fell nearby. “When you have to give a three-year-old 16）valerian to sleep， it’s awful，” Zhenya says.
Katya and Gleb try not to leave their neighbourhood in case more shelling starts. They fetch water in the mornings； in the afternoons， Gleb draws pictures or plays with his action figures or his favourite Porsche Cayenne toy car. Katya worries about where Gleb will study in the autumn as his school was recently hit by a shell.
Asked why they don’t leave the city， Denis and Zhenya explain it’s because of their 17）precarious financial situation. Because of Babushka’s condition， they would have to hire a taxi， and that costs 500 hryvnia （￡25） for a trip to the nearby town of Svyatogorsk where thousands have taken refuge， an “unreal sum”， Zhenya says.
The story is similar for other families. Gleb spent much of May at summer camp， but Katya says she doesn’t have the money to send him back. “We all want to run， but where to？ If I go away for a month， I’ll come back to an apartment with no door and no windows，”she says. She worries that her home could be 18）looted.
Katya and Gleb left to stay with her grandparents in nearby Kramatorsk this week after their neighbourhood came under intensive shelling that hit nearby apartment buildings， killing residents. 19）Shrapnel was sprayed across the yard where Gleb played.
“I had such a home， such a family， I was working， but the Slavyansk we knew is gone，”a crying Katya said by phone from Kramatorsk.“What will we do now？ Where will we go？ We left with only underwear practically. They keep killing us and killing us.”
还未到黄昏时分，但南边的天空却因即将来临的暴风雨而变得阴沉沉的。此时，在斯拉维扬斯克市一栋公寓楼下满地尘埃的游乐场上，丹尼斯·德拉格塞维奇和珍雅·库舍雅瓦雅正陪着他们的三个小男孩玩耍。
亲俄民间武装人员今年四月在东乌克兰宣布建立其自治的共和国，之后，斯拉维扬斯克市马上成了政府军队和持续增长的民兵组织之间的战斗焦点。自五月底起，基辅的“反恐行动”几乎每天都在炮轰这座城市，击垮了几十栋居民楼，并将谢苗诺夫卡村周边的大部分地方变成了残垣碎瓦。
“每个人都在谈论着同一件事——战争何时才会结束，”卡雅说道，她和母亲还有八岁的儿子格里布一起住在一间两居室的公寓里。她工作的那家配送中心已经关门了，而她得要花上半天时间提水到公寓里。
与我交谈的那些人告诉我说，这里的生活发生了彻底的改变：由于基础设施被破坏，从六月初以来很多地方都断水了，城市90%的地区断电，手机信号很难收到，有些社区也不再供气了。
丹尼斯和珍雅住在一间两居室的公寓里，同住的还有珍雅的父亲、行动不便的母亲、妹妹，以及他们的三个儿子，一个才一岁大，还有一对三岁大的双胞胎。一家人天一亮就起床；如今屋里没电，日间生活更早结束。简单地吃完早餐后，丹尼斯和珍雅便用塑料瓶去附近的井里提水。在城市的其他地方，水塔连着胶皮管让排成长队的口渴民众装水。
他们一周到城里的一间小农舍买几次牛奶，那里的住户收留了被主人们抛弃的一头奶牛、一头猪和一些小鸡。三升牛奶卖20格里夫纳（1英镑）——还不错，丹尼斯说，但比以前贵。由于食品供应紧张，不少商店关门，许多商品的价格越来越贵。联合国估计，时令蔬菜的价格比以前贵四到五倍。为数不多的几间尚未断电的超市还继续营业，但里面许多空荡荡的货架描绘了向遭遇围城的城市运送货物的难度。 珍雅说，由于如今这个家庭的收入减少，她最大的担忧是为其母亲和孩子们寻找食物。她以前每月可以收到3000格里夫纳（150英镑）的儿童福利金，她双亲的养老金有2600格里夫纳，而丹尼斯在冬季时去一家餐具厂打工，每天能挣50到100格里夫纳——斯拉维扬斯克市因其陶瓷器而闻名——夏季则到建筑工地工作。但社保福利金已被中断，工厂皆已关门，在炮弹轰炸的日子里也没人会修建任何建筑。
“以前，对孩子们的食物我们从来不省；我们会买牛肉、鸡肉、牛奶和糖果，”珍雅说。“如今我们回到家，他们说：‘妈咪，给我糖果，’但你没法去跟一个孩子解释，家里没钱了。”
珍雅说，持续不断的恐惧改变了她的样貌。“你看看我以前的旧照片就会知道，我的面容完全改变了，”她说。
只有一间药店还开着门，药价也已飞涨，因此为其罹患糖尿病的母亲寻找药品也是另一无尽担忧。
做完午饭后，这家人通常会睡过整个下午，而外祖父经常会去钓鱼。等他们起床后，父母亲就会带男孩们出去玩——即便如此，最远也是走到公寓楼下的游乐场而已，以防炮击又开始。到了傍晚，邻居们都会坐在楼梯入口处听新闻。当天开始渐渐变黑时，就是时候回家了，吃些点心，然后上床睡觉，丹尼斯说。
因为附近有垃圾箱，院子里总飘着一股垃圾的味道，居民们总是开着箱盖，以便那些被主人们抛弃，游荡于城市中的猫儿狗儿们取食。数以万计的人离开了斯拉维扬斯克市，而院子里的杏树果实也在腐烂，因为留下来的住户不够多，来不及采摘。战区的生活充满了恶臭，最主要的原因是当天好不容易才提回来那一点珍贵的清水，是很难拿去冲厕所的。
如同许多家庭一样，丹尼斯和珍雅在进攻时期也亲眼目睹了许多悲惨的故事。其中最臭名昭著的事件发生在六月八日那天。一枚炮弹落在了一间教堂的钟楼上。伤亡人数统计不一，但双方都承认有平民丧生，其中包括一名六岁的女孩。
当远方的炮击开始时，丹尼斯前去寻找珍雅，她那时正因一些日常跑腿工作而不在家。当他走下斯沃博达街时，他听见了一枚炮弹嗖嗖地飞过来，落在地面上。几十码之外，一枚炮弹击中了一幢大楼的一角，接着另两枚击中了隔壁的公寓楼，砖石横飞。
“那时候感觉不到任何恐惧或惊讶，只有满腔怒火，‘你们在干嘛，你们这些狗东西？这种事几时才能结束？杂种们！’”丹尼斯叙说道。
当炮击开始时，丹尼斯和珍雅将孩子们带到公寓的门厅或浴室里。其他人则同外祖母一起待在他们的一间卧室里，丹尼斯已经在那间房的窗口处堆了四层床垫。在最近的某个傍晚，炮击于八点左右开始时，他将沙发坐垫拆出来，全家都睡在门厅里。不然就是一家五口人挤在一张床上。自从一枚炮弹落在附近地区开始，双胞胎之一的雅罗斯拉夫就常常哭泣，总是要父母抱在怀里。
“当你不得不给一个三岁的孩子喂颉草让他入睡时，感觉真是糟透了，”珍雅说。
卡雅和格里布尽量不离开他们的社区，以防遇到更多的炮击。他们每天清晨取水；到了下午，格里布就画画，或者玩他的卡通人物模型或最爱的保时捷卡宴玩具车。卡雅担心格里布到了秋季不知该去哪里上学，因为他的学校最近被一枚炮弹击中了。
当问及他们为何不离开这座城市时，丹尼斯和珍雅解释说，是因为他们不稳定的财务状况。因为外祖母的身体状况，他们将不得不雇一辆的士，花费500格里夫纳（25英镑）才能到达附近的小镇斯维亚托戈尔斯克，成千上万人在那里避难。这是笔“不现实的花销”，珍雅说。
其他家庭的情况也都差不多。五月的大部分时间里，格里布都待在夏令营里，但卡雅说她没钱再把他送回去了。“我们都想要逃离这里，但是又能去哪里呢？如果我离开一个月，等我回来以后，我公寓的门窗就都不见了，”她说，担心自己的家会被洗劫一空。
卡雅和格里布这周离开了，去附近的克拉马托尔斯克市与她祖父母住在一起。他们的社区遭到了猛烈的炮轰，炮火击中了附近的几栋公寓大楼，炸死了一些住户。弹片在格里布平时玩耍的院子里横飞四溅。
“我曾拥有这样的屋子，这样的家，我曾有工作，但我们所知的斯拉维扬斯克市已经一去不复返了，”卡雅从克拉马托尔斯克市打电话回来哭着说。“我们现在该怎么办？我们该去哪里？我们几乎是只穿着内衣逃走的。他们一直在杀害我们，一直在杀害我们。”
After pro-Russian rebels declared their own republics in eastern Ukraine this April， Slavyansk quickly became the 2）focal point of the fighting between government forces and the steadily growing 3）militias. Since the end of May， 4）Kiev’s “anti-terrorist operation” has 5）shelled the city on a near-daily basis， hitting dozens of residential buildings and reducing most of the suburb of Semyonovka to rubble.
“Everyone talks about the same thing， about when the war will end，” says Katya， who lives in a two-room apartment with her mother and her eight-year-old son， Gleb. The distribution centre where she worked has closed down， and instead she spends half the day hauling water to the apartment.
The people I speak to tell me that life here has changed 6）drastically： because of the damaged 7）infrastructure， water has been cut off for many since early June， 90% of the city lacks electricity， mobile reception is 8）elusive and some neighbourhoods no longer have gas.
Denis and Zhenya live in a two-room apartment with her father， disabled mother， sister and their three boys， a one-year-old and threeyear-old twins. The family wakes up at 9）first light； now that there is no electricity， the day ends much earlier. After a quick breakfast， Denis and Zhenya go to haul water in plastic bottles from a nearby well. Elsewhere in the city， water towers have run hoses for lines of thirsty people to fill up.
Several times a week， they buy milk at a small cottage in the city where a man keeps a cow， pig and chickens that have been abandoned by their owners. It costs 20 hryvnia （￡1） for three litres —not bad， Denis says， but more expensive than it used to be. Many products have grown pricier as food supplies have been stretched and stores have closed， with the UN estimating that seasonal vegetables are four to five times more expensive than before. The few supermarkets that have electricity are still open， but their many bare shelves portray the difficulty of delivering goods to a city under siege.
Zhenya says her biggest worry is finding food for her mother and children now that the family’s income has dropped off. She previously received 3，000 hryvnia （￡150） a month in child benefits， her parents received 2，600 hryvnia in pension payments， and Denis earned 50 to 100 hryvnia a day working at a tableware factory during winter—Slavyansk is known for its 10）ceramics—and on building sites in summer. But social payments have been cut off， the factories have shut and no one is building anything during the 11）bombardment. “Earlier， we didn’t have to 12）scrimp on the kids’ food； we bought veal， chicken， milk and sweets，” Zhenya says. “Now we go home and they say， ‘Momma， give me sweets’， and you can’t explain to a child that there’s no money.”
Zhenya says the constant fear has changed the way she looks. “If you look at my old photos， my face has completely changed，” she says.
Only one pharmacy is open， and prices there have risen， so finding medicine for her 13）diabetic mother is another constant concern.
After cooking lunch， the family typically sleeps through the afternoon， while the grandfather often goes fishing. After they get up， the parents take the boys out to play—no farther than the playground in front of their apartment building， though， in case the shelling starts. In the evenings， the neighbours sit outside the stairwell entrance and listen to the news. When it starts getting dark， it’s time to go in， eat a snack and go to bed， Denis says.
The yard smells of waste because of the nearby dumpsters， which residents leave open for the many cats and dogs that now roam the city， having been abandoned by their owners. Tens of thousands have left Slavyansk， and the fruit from apricot trees in the yard is rotting because not enough residents are left to pick it. Life in a war zone is a 14）fetid affair， first and foremost because it’s hard to flush a toilet with the precious little water you’ve managed to haul in that day.
Like many families， Denis and Zhenya have harrowing stories of the attacks they have witnessed. The most infamous of them occurred on June 8th. One shell landed in the belltower of a church. Casualty counts varied， but both sides admitted civilians had been killed， including a six-year-old girl.
When the shelling started in the distance， Denis went to look for Zhenya， who wasn’t home from her daily errands. As he was walking down Svoboda Street， he heard the whoosh of an incoming shell and dropped to the ground. A few dozen yards away， a shell hit the corner of a high-rise and two more hit the apartment building next door， sending bricks flying.
“There was no fear or surprise， just emotion，‘What are you doing， you dogs？ When will it end？ Bastards！’” Denis recounts.
When the shelling starts， Denis and Zhenya take the kids into the entryway of their apartment or the bathroom. The others stay with 15）Babushka in one of the bedrooms where Denis has piled four mattresses against the windows. When the shelling started around 8pm on a recent evening， he took the cushions off the couch and they slept in the entryway. Otherwise， the family sleeps all five together in one bed. One of the twins， Yaroslav， often cries and is almost always in one of the adults’ arms ever since a shell fell nearby. “When you have to give a three-year-old 16）valerian to sleep， it’s awful，” Zhenya says.
Katya and Gleb try not to leave their neighbourhood in case more shelling starts. They fetch water in the mornings； in the afternoons， Gleb draws pictures or plays with his action figures or his favourite Porsche Cayenne toy car. Katya worries about where Gleb will study in the autumn as his school was recently hit by a shell.
Asked why they don’t leave the city， Denis and Zhenya explain it’s because of their 17）precarious financial situation. Because of Babushka’s condition， they would have to hire a taxi， and that costs 500 hryvnia （￡25） for a trip to the nearby town of Svyatogorsk where thousands have taken refuge， an “unreal sum”， Zhenya says.
The story is similar for other families. Gleb spent much of May at summer camp， but Katya says she doesn’t have the money to send him back. “We all want to run， but where to？ If I go away for a month， I’ll come back to an apartment with no door and no windows，”she says. She worries that her home could be 18）looted.
Katya and Gleb left to stay with her grandparents in nearby Kramatorsk this week after their neighbourhood came under intensive shelling that hit nearby apartment buildings， killing residents. 19）Shrapnel was sprayed across the yard where Gleb played.
“I had such a home， such a family， I was working， but the Slavyansk we knew is gone，”a crying Katya said by phone from Kramatorsk.“What will we do now？ Where will we go？ We left with only underwear practically. They keep killing us and killing us.”
还未到黄昏时分，但南边的天空却因即将来临的暴风雨而变得阴沉沉的。此时，在斯拉维扬斯克市一栋公寓楼下满地尘埃的游乐场上，丹尼斯·德拉格塞维奇和珍雅·库舍雅瓦雅正陪着他们的三个小男孩玩耍。
亲俄民间武装人员今年四月在东乌克兰宣布建立其自治的共和国，之后，斯拉维扬斯克市马上成了政府军队和持续增长的民兵组织之间的战斗焦点。自五月底起，基辅的“反恐行动”几乎每天都在炮轰这座城市，击垮了几十栋居民楼，并将谢苗诺夫卡村周边的大部分地方变成了残垣碎瓦。
“每个人都在谈论着同一件事——战争何时才会结束，”卡雅说道，她和母亲还有八岁的儿子格里布一起住在一间两居室的公寓里。她工作的那家配送中心已经关门了，而她得要花上半天时间提水到公寓里。
与我交谈的那些人告诉我说，这里的生活发生了彻底的改变：由于基础设施被破坏，从六月初以来很多地方都断水了，城市90%的地区断电，手机信号很难收到，有些社区也不再供气了。
丹尼斯和珍雅住在一间两居室的公寓里，同住的还有珍雅的父亲、行动不便的母亲、妹妹，以及他们的三个儿子，一个才一岁大，还有一对三岁大的双胞胎。一家人天一亮就起床；如今屋里没电，日间生活更早结束。简单地吃完早餐后，丹尼斯和珍雅便用塑料瓶去附近的井里提水。在城市的其他地方，水塔连着胶皮管让排成长队的口渴民众装水。
他们一周到城里的一间小农舍买几次牛奶，那里的住户收留了被主人们抛弃的一头奶牛、一头猪和一些小鸡。三升牛奶卖20格里夫纳（1英镑）——还不错，丹尼斯说，但比以前贵。由于食品供应紧张，不少商店关门，许多商品的价格越来越贵。联合国估计，时令蔬菜的价格比以前贵四到五倍。为数不多的几间尚未断电的超市还继续营业，但里面许多空荡荡的货架描绘了向遭遇围城的城市运送货物的难度。 珍雅说，由于如今这个家庭的收入减少，她最大的担忧是为其母亲和孩子们寻找食物。她以前每月可以收到3000格里夫纳（150英镑）的儿童福利金，她双亲的养老金有2600格里夫纳，而丹尼斯在冬季时去一家餐具厂打工，每天能挣50到100格里夫纳——斯拉维扬斯克市因其陶瓷器而闻名——夏季则到建筑工地工作。但社保福利金已被中断，工厂皆已关门，在炮弹轰炸的日子里也没人会修建任何建筑。
“以前，对孩子们的食物我们从来不省；我们会买牛肉、鸡肉、牛奶和糖果，”珍雅说。“如今我们回到家，他们说：‘妈咪，给我糖果，’但你没法去跟一个孩子解释，家里没钱了。”
珍雅说，持续不断的恐惧改变了她的样貌。“你看看我以前的旧照片就会知道，我的面容完全改变了，”她说。
只有一间药店还开着门，药价也已飞涨，因此为其罹患糖尿病的母亲寻找药品也是另一无尽担忧。
做完午饭后，这家人通常会睡过整个下午，而外祖父经常会去钓鱼。等他们起床后，父母亲就会带男孩们出去玩——即便如此，最远也是走到公寓楼下的游乐场而已，以防炮击又开始。到了傍晚，邻居们都会坐在楼梯入口处听新闻。当天开始渐渐变黑时，就是时候回家了，吃些点心，然后上床睡觉，丹尼斯说。
因为附近有垃圾箱，院子里总飘着一股垃圾的味道，居民们总是开着箱盖，以便那些被主人们抛弃，游荡于城市中的猫儿狗儿们取食。数以万计的人离开了斯拉维扬斯克市，而院子里的杏树果实也在腐烂，因为留下来的住户不够多，来不及采摘。战区的生活充满了恶臭，最主要的原因是当天好不容易才提回来那一点珍贵的清水，是很难拿去冲厕所的。
如同许多家庭一样，丹尼斯和珍雅在进攻时期也亲眼目睹了许多悲惨的故事。其中最臭名昭著的事件发生在六月八日那天。一枚炮弹落在了一间教堂的钟楼上。伤亡人数统计不一，但双方都承认有平民丧生，其中包括一名六岁的女孩。
当远方的炮击开始时，丹尼斯前去寻找珍雅，她那时正因一些日常跑腿工作而不在家。当他走下斯沃博达街时，他听见了一枚炮弹嗖嗖地飞过来，落在地面上。几十码之外，一枚炮弹击中了一幢大楼的一角，接着另两枚击中了隔壁的公寓楼，砖石横飞。
“那时候感觉不到任何恐惧或惊讶，只有满腔怒火，‘你们在干嘛，你们这些狗东西？这种事几时才能结束？杂种们！’”丹尼斯叙说道。
当炮击开始时，丹尼斯和珍雅将孩子们带到公寓的门厅或浴室里。其他人则同外祖母一起待在他们的一间卧室里，丹尼斯已经在那间房的窗口处堆了四层床垫。在最近的某个傍晚，炮击于八点左右开始时，他将沙发坐垫拆出来，全家都睡在门厅里。不然就是一家五口人挤在一张床上。自从一枚炮弹落在附近地区开始，双胞胎之一的雅罗斯拉夫就常常哭泣，总是要父母抱在怀里。
“当你不得不给一个三岁的孩子喂颉草让他入睡时，感觉真是糟透了，”珍雅说。
卡雅和格里布尽量不离开他们的社区，以防遇到更多的炮击。他们每天清晨取水；到了下午，格里布就画画，或者玩他的卡通人物模型或最爱的保时捷卡宴玩具车。卡雅担心格里布到了秋季不知该去哪里上学，因为他的学校最近被一枚炮弹击中了。
当问及他们为何不离开这座城市时，丹尼斯和珍雅解释说，是因为他们不稳定的财务状况。因为外祖母的身体状况，他们将不得不雇一辆的士，花费500格里夫纳（25英镑）才能到达附近的小镇斯维亚托戈尔斯克，成千上万人在那里避难。这是笔“不现实的花销”，珍雅说。
其他家庭的情况也都差不多。五月的大部分时间里，格里布都待在夏令营里，但卡雅说她没钱再把他送回去了。“我们都想要逃离这里，但是又能去哪里呢？如果我离开一个月，等我回来以后，我公寓的门窗就都不见了，”她说，担心自己的家会被洗劫一空。
卡雅和格里布这周离开了，去附近的克拉马托尔斯克市与她祖父母住在一起。他们的社区遭到了猛烈的炮轰，炮火击中了附近的几栋公寓大楼，炸死了一些住户。弹片在格里布平时玩耍的院子里横飞四溅。
“我曾拥有这样的屋子，这样的家，我曾有工作，但我们所知的斯拉维扬斯克市已经一去不复返了，”卡雅从克拉马托尔斯克市打电话回来哭着说。“我们现在该怎么办？我们该去哪里？我们几乎是只穿着内衣逃走的。他们一直在杀害我们，一直在杀害我们。”