The Newspaper round in Velyka Pysarivka can be sketchy. Barely 3km from the Russian border, the village is stalked by death. Oleskiy and Natalia Pasyuga, the husband-and-wife duo behind the Vorskla (the weekly takes its name from the local river) have a survival algorithm. Oleksiy, 56, drives. Natalia, 53, listens out of the passenger window for the drones that grow stealthier with every day. They say they are careful, though they know they are kidding themselves. Delivering the paper to the last remaining residents of the village is not a rational exercise, but a love affair. The tears of subscribers make it worth it, Ms Pasyuga says: “They grab the paper and hold it to their nose to smell the fresh newsprint.”
For its 2,500 readers, the Vorskla is more than a news source; it is a connection to the outside world. Most of Ukraine’s border villages now have no electricity or mobile connection. When televisions work, they pick up Russian channels. The Pasyugas say they feel obliged to stay to debunk the propaganda, though they evacuated their offices from Velyka Pysarivka in March after a glide bomb smashed their car and half the building. Six months later the Russians destroyed the other half, during attacks that coincided with Ukraine’s advance into Russia’s Kursk province just to the north. Now the Vorskla is put together in a library in the nearby town of Okhtyrka. It is printed and hand delivered to front-line villages in a car the couple borrow from their son.
When your correspondent calls, the Pasyugas are preparing a special Christmas issue. They already know what they want: uplifting stories to raise the morale of their weary readers. For once, there will be no obituaries of the local boys lost in battle. The Kursk offensive will be left out too, though that is less unusual. The Pasyugas say they know “too much” to accept the official celebration of the offensive as “Ukraine’s great and only triumph of 2024”. They choose silence instead.
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(@marcthiessen) 
(@DavidVickrey1)