Avdiivka ( Ukraine ) (AFP) - Civilians in Avdiivka, in eastern Ukraine, have found themselves in the crossfire between Ukrainian and pro-Russian forces since 2014. But with the start of the Russian invasion a year ago, this booming industrial city has been reduced to a deserted city.

The few residents who remained there, out of the 30,000 who inhabited it before the war, are now hiding in the basements of buildings without water or electricity, for fear that they will die in the relentless artillery fire.

An AFP team spent the morning of February 8th in Avdiivka.

- Fire and water -
- 08:39. A fire in an apartment on Komalana Street is still burning after a missile attack overnight. Thick gray smoke billows from a window overlooking the stairwell of the building and flames crackle.

There are no firefighters, and residents expect the fire to die out on its own as charred debris and shards of glass fall softly on the snow that covers the road.

- 08:42. Since morning broke, two hours earlier, residents have spent their time filling water bottles from a public pipe.

As if the threat of mortar and rocket fire from both sides were not enough, residents reported the death of an elderly woman from carbon monoxide poisoning from the fumes of a poorly ventilated wood stove.

- 09:09. Andre, 51, is preparing to leave. "Take it," he said, holding a necklace with a cross on it. "It will protect you."

- 09:28. Oleksandr Lugovskikh, 35, sits on the edge of his bed in the first-floor apartment he lives with his cat, Tosik. A dim light lights up the room and the skinny young man draws a long puff of his cigarette, unconcerned by the suffocating fumes rising from the cooking stove.

To earn a living, Oleksandr repairs saws during the day. "After two in the afternoon, the day is over. There is nothing to do. At four in the afternoon it is dark," he explains.

Outside, icy winds have dropped the temperature to minus 18 degrees Celsius. Oleksandr, a former construction worker, says the heat from the stove makes it bearable during the day. As for the night, he does not use it.

He does not understand the meaning of this war. "These are battles between politicians to show who is stronger," he says, shrugging.

- fuel -
- 10:22. Svetlana, 49, has been sitting in Avdiivka's one-stop shop since early morning amidst a pile of flashlights, shoes and solar chargers, listening to the radio.

"On average, about three clients come a day... That's enough for me to earn some money. I don't want to depend on aid," the woman says.

- 10:56. Near the bombed market, residents gather at the entrance of an apartment building. They use a generator to charge cell phones.

Outside, they hold phones up to the sky, hoping they'll pick up a signal. Sometimes they succeed.
A few steps away, 71-year-old Lyubov Stepanova gathers logs and coal. She drags a broken cart across the snow from the basement she shares with 20 neighbours.

"There were 50 of us, but many left," said the woman who worked at the Avdiivka coal and chemical products factory.

- 11:02. In Lyubov's windowless basement, 68-year-old Tetiana massages Galina's arthritic fingers on a tattered bed.

- depression -
- 12:31. Vitaly Sitnik, 55, has little time off working at Avdiivka Central Hospital, dark circles under his eyes blemished by sleepless days and nights.

He said that most of the staff left last year because of the heavy shelling. He's the only doctor left since October.

Despite the bombing, supplies are still arriving at the clinic, one kilometer from the Russian lines. The explosion of mortar shells shook the windows. He clasps his hands together.

"People are stressed out," he said. "They come and ask for antidepressants and sleeping pills. I give them, as a doctor. But I tell them: in order for you to sleep, you have to go."

Outside, he lights a cigarette and points out the ruined two floors of the hospital, of which only the ground floor is functioning.

- 13:30. The bombardment grew stronger nearby and Vitaly hurried inside. "You'd better go," he said, looking back.