When I look at this photo, I hear music — cult music. When the Saints Go Marching In is a sacred jazz anthem. The most famous performance of the composition was recorded in 1938. This was done by Louis Armstrong with the orchestra.

Roman Zakrevsky is a soldier of the press service of the 12th separate brigade of special purpose “Azov” NGU, a new member of the Ukrainian Association of Professional Photographers.

Oleksandr Rupeta works in Ukraine and around the world, specializing in topics of social anthropology, social conflicts and personal stories. His focus is on people and communities, spaces and moments that shape our time. Oleksandr Rupeta spoke about author's projects, ethics in photography and international experience as a documentary photographer. Oleksandr Rupeta is a member of the International Federation of Journalists, the Federation of European Photographers and the Independent Media Trade Union of Ukraine. His work has been published by The New York Times, Financial Times, The Times, The Guardian, The Economist, Time, Nature, Forbes, National Geographic Traveler, as well as profile media Bird In Flight, C41 magazine, FotoRoom, Dodho Magazine, The Heavy Collective and many others.

In July 2025, Russia carried out more than 5100 drops of guided aircraft bombs on Ukraine, launched more than 3800 Shakhad kamikaze drones and almost 260 missiles of various types, 128 of which were ballistic. These figures, given by President Vladimir Zelensky, indicate a consistently high intensity of Russian terror. The week from July 28 to August 4 has only confirmed: the strategy of mass attacks remains unchanged. Russia's military has continued its combined drone and missile strikes that have killed dozens of people, injured hundreds of civilians and destroyed infrastructure in different regions of the country. Against the background of these attacks, Ukraine continues to defend not only its territory, but also the security of the whole of Europe.

The guys didn't let us play war, they say we — girls — will spoil everything for them. None of them explained exactly how we could spoil the «war». However, we definitely believed that this was some very important game. My dad had to come and scold the guys for not taking us. Scowled, the guys reluctantly put sticks in our hands that were supposed to serve as weapons, — and in a moment they were looking for a way to throw us out of the game the fastest. Under his father's watchful eye, we were treated, of course, not badly, but as soon as he turned away or walked away in his business — us, so to speak, «were killed» with a fictional shot in the back, and we had to lie on the grass for the rest of the game. Wow, how many years did it take me to understand this exact metaphor of «civilized supervision».