After a year we returned to the Donbass. While we are writing it is night but the sky above the Petrovs'kyi district is lit up by the lightning of the artillery. Soon we will be at the front to tell a war in the heart of Europe forgotten by everyone.
A TIR column is waiting in line at customs. They are dozens. Someone starts again for a few meters and snorts, like a sleepy moose.
The Russians control our passports with a smartphone. Hurry does not live here. After 4 hours of waiting is passed.
On the side of the Donbass you can hurry up right away. The most is done: officially the Rostov region and Holy Mother Russia are behind; in front, there is only the road to Donetsk.
Green vegetated uniforms and the same looks guide us through birch trees and wet asphalt. We are in Ukraine or maybe not ... For mosquitoes arriving with the intense rains of these days is not important; they have no borders, they just break.
This is an exceptionally wet season, but the mild June climate makes everything sweeter. An immense green breaks through the barren gray of the remains of the winter just gone by. Between the tall trees opens the plain that leads towards west, towards Donetsk.
In a year, so many things have changed in the pro-Russian Ukraine: the roads have been resurfaced and everything seems normal; now there is even a police body for public order.
Donetsk has once again become the city of a thousand roses, as it once was. They plant them everywhere: median flowerbeds, gardens, public parks. A year ago there were only soldiers. Now you see several gardeners ...
At first glance it seems like a century has passed. The streets are crowded and on the surface life flows as if nothing had happened. In the center there is no trace of the war; all removed, all as before.
But behind the appearance, there is still death and fear. It is enough that the night arrives, when with the Moscow time darkness falls and everything is silent. A distant rhomb reminds of the cool summer rains of these parts. In reality it is the artilleries that continue to pull without rest. Lightning comes from the district of Petrovs'kyi, southwest suburb. For the moment it is the only way to understand that the first line is closer than we think.
We move towards the north, between the buildings and the suburbs. The area before the airport, one of the symbols of the war in Ukraine, is plagued by bomb marks. The blocks of Soviet-style houses peeking through grenade shards peep out between the rows of birch trees. A gray hurricane seems to have passed. The roar of the artillery becomes stronger and more frequent. The fighting line is very close. 
meet Spartaco, an Italian volunteer among the pro-Russian ranks. He is an enlisted of the first hour; it's practically here since the drama began.
Spartaco in Italy it was a parà of the thunderbolt and the Basque Amaranth never takes it off. Detaches with the vegetated green of the Russian camouflage he is wearing. On the shoulder is the patch with the Cyrillic script DNR, the symbol of the Republic of Donbass.
Wounded three times, including two in just ten days, he is respected by everyone here and does not want to know to return. It was also decorated, but humility prevails and changes immediately. He has good eyes, barely veiled by a note of melancholy. War, even when it is a choice, leaves an indelible trace in the eye.
He tells us that despite the apparent normality the clashes continue with heavy losses on both sides: the Ukrainian army on one side; army of the Donbass on the other. In the West it has not been talked about for months, but the tragedy continues unabated.
There is a lot of tension. You don't have to go far to understand it. At one spit from Donetsk, just beyond the airport, is the town of Avdiivka where house-to-house is fought. The number of injured and fallen increases day by day in total media silence.
Spartaco tells us that the crux of the dispute is a motorway junction of strategic importance.
He also fought in Avdiivka along with the 1 ° Battalion, composed of volunteers with at least a year and a half of experience at the front. Here there is no joking and little talk. War is a serious and above all true thing.
Smiling he lets a short gust of nostalgia pass that softens his face. He tells us that he has just met his fellow countryman from Italy to bring him cheeses from his valleys and greetings from home, as well as humanitarian aid for civilians.
We greet him, promising to meet him again. For security reasons he does not tell us where and for how much, but he is about to reach an anonymous point of the first line.
To go to the front we need the military and accreditation press Press Center you have to wait a while. The return to normality has also led to an increase in bureaucracy ...
With the civil accreditation you cannot go beyond a certain area. As soon as we take the airport they stop us and take us to a battalion barracks Vostok for investigations.
Il Vostok it is formed by Russian, Chechen and Crimean volunteers. They are all veterans trained with a special force standard.
In the interrogation room we manage to get by quickly but we understand how serious the issue is. To reach Avdiivka you need military accreditation, there's no other way. Spartaco he warned us of the risk there, but we are waiting to be able to move in the next few days.
Meanwhile, without haste, time passes and the light of day changes.
Tall birches, gray skies, two children watching us, a car passing by rubbing the wet asphalt. We are in Europe. A Europe torn by a war forgotten by all.
(Continued)
(photo: Giorgio Bianchi)
