I first went to the Donbass eight years ago, when the war between Ukraine and Russia was just beginning. After a few years, the active phase of the confrontation ended and the conflict seemed to have been frozen for many years. But in February 2022 the war broke out with renewed vigour, and I was back again.
After heavy fighting and huge civilian casualties, a humanitarian disaster reigned in Mariupol, but some residents returned to set up life from scratch: some took apart the rubble, some carried large bottles of water, some tried to find surviving items, which were then transported on trolleys or bicycles. “Transport of the apocalypse…” – I thought back then.
Walking down one street in the old part of the city, I suddenly remembered Dresden after World War II for some reason: the same black skeletons of houses, the crunch of broken glass underfoot and deserted streets.