Élysée confirms that France's support for Kyiv “will not weaken”.

I took this photo in Borodianka in April 2022, two months after Russia's invasion of Ukraine began. The city, north of Kiev, has been occupied by Russian soldiers for almost a month, 90% destroyed, and the military has committed abuses against civilians.

When I arrived in Borodianka, I was struck by the desolation and silence that reigned. I see a woman walking in front of the ruins of a building, her groceries in her hands. She speaks to me in Russian, and I understand a few words: in shock, she is looking for her way, lost in her own city, destroyed by strife.

Everything has to be rebuilt. But in the absurdity of war, life goes on, a reality that some of the first-hand victims of war cling to as best they can. Children, old people. And sometimes, knowing not to create an image.

I work in Borodianka with Andrei, a young fixer from eastern Ukraine. His role is essential: he helps me get around, translate, and make connections with the people there. He knows by heart some areas where he grew up. During the trip, we chatted, joked, and listened to music from Vinnytsia, a western city freed from strife. But when we come to the first destroyed cities, his face closes. He turns off the music.

We quietly listen to the chilling testimonies of residents. Gradually, I stopped asking people to stop and talk. He goes to burnt buildings and houses and asks what he can do to help them. It is his country, his people, everything affects him differently from us.

This is my second visit to Ukraine. At the age of 25, I recorded such a serious conflict for the first time. It leads us to think about our vocation, our commitment. Everything went up on the pitch, starting with the emotions.

It is a veritable information war being played out on the ground between two camps. Even as information is diverted, altered, and manipulated, it becomes imperative to show the reality of war.

Read other testimonials from our photographers here.