Vitaliy bought red carnations. The burial remains to be found. The 30-year-old, in a Ukrainian Territorial Defense uniform, limps between the crosses, peers right and left, his mobile phone against his cheek. On this day at the end of February, the mud that sticks to his boots is slowing his progress. “I’m in the center aisle. Then where do I go? At the end of the line, the widow of her best friend tries to explain how to find the final resting place of their dearly departed, Anton. But all graves look alike. And there are over 900.
-1.gif)
