Just a few miles north of Orikhiv on Highway H08 lies the village of Tavriiske.
There, the director of the Tavriiske Psychiatric and Geriatric Home, Oleksandr Starosvitskyi, faces a torturous decision.
They joined the burgeoning number of older Ukrainians orphaned by the war with Russia.
When and how can Starosvitskyi move his charges to safety?
And these are bedridden people, older people.
How can we transport them?
Who will look after them?
They need round-the-clock care.
Built as a district school, it sheltered homeless children during the Russian Revolution and civil war.
At first its hard to imagine this wrenching history.
The home bustles with activity.
The wheat and barley in the fields around the small, neat village is waist high.
The care homes gardens, maintained by residents, are bright with flowers.
The open doors of the buildings admit fresh, fragrant breezes and the sound of birdsong.
The home employs 1 in 4 villagers.
But its normal staff of 240 has been depleted by the 100 workers who have left for safer places.
That doesnt cover everyone, says Starosvitskyi, his voice edged with frustration.
I mean, you either evacuate everyone or no one.
And when is that point?
When they are 1 to 2 kilometers from us, then it will be too late.
He is 62 and due to retire at the end of this year.
He shrugs and smiles when I ask if hell really retire.
He had asked her to move with his wife to Zaporizhzhia, where his son also lives.
My mother said, No.
She said, I wont leave you here alone.
And I said, I wont leave you here.
And what of the residents themselves?
Everyone I spoke with had a story of transience and resilience, of tragedy and, occasionally, hope.
Volodymyr and Tatiana Kharchenko arrived in Tavriiske in late April.
She was a Russian agronomist who had just been posted to his little town.
