We are standing on a cross point in the eastern part of Mariupol, about 8 km out of the centre. Here is the edge of town. Here the meadows start, that at a certain point will become the battle front.
The driver is joking: ‘What shall we do? Back to the hotel? Or prefer going to Russa? Russia is closer.’
I have been called a spy quite a few times in the suburbs. People not knowing what I was doing. Especially when I was taking pictures. The older generation does not understand our project. And maybe they are not very interested either. At least they will not talk to a spy… And no of course I was not allowed to take a picture of them. I am sorry.