Life on the Demarcation Line: One Man’s Fate
Always when I approach Stanytsia Luhanska (a Ukrainian village bordering the so-called Luhansk People’s Republic), I feel anxiety. Inside, everything shrinks painfully and a sense of dread is combating an overwhelming desire to see my grandparents, to wander the streets I used to walk on as a child, to stop by a flower shop with my grandmother and to buy some fresh milk on the way home. We pull out onto the main street and move towards my grandparents’ house. So close, so far away.