The sound of explosions tears at regular intervals the ghostly atmosphere.
Soledar, "gift of salt", takes its name from the large salt mine located at its entrance. Operated by the Ukrainian company Artemsol, which extracted millions of tonnes each year, the mine was also a tourist spot, for its "fairy-tale salt sculptures" touted in tourist brochures.
the city, which had some 15,000 inhabitants before the war, was also known for its underground sanatorium treating lung diseases.
It was before the invasion. Before she finds herself in the way of Russian troops who want to seize the Donetsk region.
Today, the mine, hit several times, has been closed. The inhabitants fled, and according to the estimates of the few rare people crossed in the city, there should not remain more than 2,000 people in the ghost town, left to their own devices.
The buildings along the main street are half destroyed or blackened by smoke. The Cultural Center is totally devastated. In the ruins, which still smell of smoke, we see scattered papers, a telephone off the hook on a desk.
“It happened on the night of July 9 to 10, that night about ten missiles hit Soledar,” recalls precisely Tetiana, a woman who passes with her 5-year-old daughter and her 67-year-old mother. The large building burned for several days, due to a lack of firefighters to put out the blaze.
"There are no longer any authorities, police, doctors or pharmacies. Everyone has left. We have been abandoned," Tetiana continues.
- "My husband and my cats" -
Like an apparition, an elegant lady with short-cropped white hair appears in a deserted street, escorted by five cats. Smiling and scared, Lioudmyla explains that her handicapped husband cannot move.
"And then there are the abandoned cats, I can't leave them," explains the former schoolteacher, heading to one of the last food stores open in the city. It is supplied by volunteers who come twice a week, braving the shootings and the bombs.
Below the store, in the basement, a large hardware store now serves as a meeting point. People come here to buy gas cylinders, nails, but also crockery or linen. It's one of the few places where you can feel a bit safe, and socialize with your fellow human beings.
Iouri, 59, long gray ponytail under his cap, overalls, leans on his cane behind his counter. Despite everything, his gaze still sparkles: "if I let myself get depressed, it's not good for my old bones".
But the man is gloomy as soon as he evokes his two grandchildren of 8 and 12 years old, still in Soledar. What do they do with their days? "They create stress", sighs the grandfather, who tries to occupy them by making a makeshift heater with them with zinc plates, to "prepare for winter".
As everywhere in the cities of the Ukrainian eastern front, those who remain cannot or do not want to evacuate.
Leaning on her balcony, a former bank employee, Larissa, challenges the journalists. "We just want to stay at home! We are not separatists! Write it down: we are not separatists," she repeats.
Regional authorities regularly urge residents to evacuate, and those who remain are often seen as pro-Russians awaiting the arrival of forces from Moscow.
But Lia Tcherkachyna, 84, doesn't care about Russians or Ukrainians. Sitting in front of her house, the old lady begs someone to fill her 5 bottles at the water pump which still works. Yesterday, a man promised to bring her water, in exchange for a bottle of vodka, which she doesn't have.
From her balcony, Larissa lets out a final cry: "We just want peace. And silence".
