Our village was shelled at the end of August. We counted 17 shells. Our family suffered the most.

Three shells exploded around our house. The nightmare lasted a few minutes, and I remember the consequences for the rest of my life.

The fence, garage, walls, and windows are all riddled with fragments. There was even a piece of shell from a prohibited large-caliber weapon.

I managed to fall to the floor, and I was sleeping in the hall, and then for a break of two or three seconds I managed to jump out into another room. Then the walls collapsed.

My sheep dog, my most loyal friend, was killed. She was seven years old. She died guarding the territory of our house.

There was a deep shell hole in the backyard where a shell had fallen and exploded. Then the greenhouse caught fire, the fire was extinguished for several hours. Everything burned down.

On the night of the attack, my son and wife were in the house with me. They were saved by a miracle. All the beds were covered with glass, and there were no windows left in the house. My wife came home from the hospital after the operation on the eve of the attack.