Standing at an intersection just outside Russian-occupied Donetsk in the town of Marinka two years ago felt bittersweet. I could see the curtains in the windows of a nine-story residential building with my naked eye a few kilometers in the distance. The huge antenna tower I still remember standing next to as a child with my late father was also in my view. The city was so close and yet impossibly far away. It’s been almost a decade since I fled Donetsk after living under Russian occupation for two months. Going back before liberation would be suicide following the years I’ve spent reporting on…