The road from Mariupol to Shyrokyne, isn’t long, but it is eerily quiet and devoid of any movement beyond the occasional military checkpoint and pheasant.

Traveling here feels a bit like stepping through a wardrobe into another world — one moment you’re working your way through the traffic and bustle of Mariupol’s left bank and the next you’re on deserted roads that snake through open fields, with your senses beginning to heighten. Every time I make the journey I get the same feeling of alertness and wonder.