Freedom, but no peace Life on the Kherson frontline

On the Saturday, the Russians hit a school and a grain store. On the Sunday, the ceaseless bombardment of Kherson from across the river struck a medical facility. An artillery round landed near a middle-aged man. The doctors did their best but the shrapnel had pierced his brain.

- Tom Burgis

On the Monday, a bus, a library and a graveyard. On the Tuesday, a warehouse and two cars. The occupants of the car hit by a kamikaze drone were only concussed. The other caught fire when a shell smashed into it. After firefighters put out the flames, they found what remained of the owner inside.

On the Wednesday, a round landed just after breakfast in the middle of town. Three council staff were walking along, the working day ahead of them. Shards from the blast wounded two. The third died on the kerbside. A blue plastic sheet was laid over her body. All around, glass from blown-out windows crunched underfoot.

The governor of Kherson region has beseeched civilians in this southern area of Ukraine to leave. He has offered free travel and help with accommodation. As well as shells to dodge, there has been a flood, unleashed, apparently by the Russians, when the Kakhova dam was destroyed in June.

And yet last Thursday morning at the city's market, almost a year since Ukraine's liberation of the area, residents were stocking up for another week on the frontline.

The Dnipro river cuts the region in two. The eastern side is still occupied by the Russians. Freedom has returned to the western side, where Kherson city abuts the bank, but not peace.

In the year since Ukrainian troops reached the centre of Kherson, the hundreds of shells, bombs, mortars, missiles and drones that the Russians fire across the river every day have killed 397 and injured 2,057, according to the local authorities, equivalent to about a quarter of the civilian death toll during the occupation.