Not so much that life goes on here, but that it has nowhere else to go. these men selling cow s milk, although that is not what he has been drinking. hello to everyone he says 40 times a day and night they shell. barely a window is intact. shrapnel flying through the glass daily. yesterday it was her turn but she can t leave and she is waiting for her son to return from the war in mariupol. our children are all at war, she says. my son is a prisoner. if he comes back and i have gone, it is like i ve abandoned him. we wait, hope, worry he is alive and we will live. on the road out of here, the