From Mariia's 16th-floor flat, the calm waters of the Black Sea stretch out into the horizon beneath the fading twilight.
Up here you can see and hear when the drones come, she says, standing by a wall-length, floor-to-ceiling window. When they hit buildings and homes in the city of Odesa down below we see all the fires too.
Her daughter Eva, who is nine, has learned the shapes and sounds of the objects that zoom through the sky on a daily basis. She proudly shows off a list of social media channels she checks when the air raid alerts go off.
She knows whether what's coming is a risk or a threat, and that calms her down, her father Sergii says.
There is scarcely a place in Ukraine that has not been targeted since Russia launched its full-scale invasion nearly four years ago.
But in recent weeks Odesa – Ukraine's third largest city – has come under sustained attack. Through strikes on port and energy infrastructure, Russia is trying to cripple the region's economy and dent the population's morale.
Moscow, however, does not just hit facilities. Its drones, mostly as big as a motorcycle, regularly crash into high-rise buildings like Masha's, exploding on impact and blowing glass and debris inward. The consequences are often deadly.
A few months ago Eva said she was afraid the drone would come too fast and we wouldn't have time to hide, Mariia says. But I explained that if it came towards us, it would get louder and louder and then we'd know we have to run.
Mariia, Sergii and Eva are originally from Kherson, a region 200km (125m) to the east of Odesa which is now in large part occupied by Russia.
They left as soon as the invasion started in 2022 and mother and daughter briefly moved to Germany as refugees. But Sergii and Mariia could not bear the distance, so the family reunited in Ukraine and moved to Odesa.
Now, as attacks on the region intensify, Sergii wonders whether the family should prepare to leave again. War is only about economics, and Odesa for the Russians is about infrastructure, so they will do their best to conquer it, he says.
Tucked in south-western Ukraine, Odesa was an economic powerhouse before the war. But with land crossings disrupted, 90% of Ukraine exports last year were shipped by sea.
But in wartime the region's importance is also its weakness.
Last month, Vladimir Putin threatened to cut off Ukraine's access to the sea in retaliation for Ukrainian strikes on the shadow fleet tankers Russia uses to circumvent sanctions.
Aerial attacks on the ports have destroyed cargo and containers and damaged infrastructure; crew members on foreign merchant ships operating in the Gulf of Odesa have been injured or killed by drones; and 800 air-raid alerts in a year repeatedly halted port operations.
As the strikes surge, air sirens go off frequently, but not everyone heeds them. Standing in front of a destroyed gym the morning after an overnight drone strike that injured seven people, Maryna Averina of the State Emergency Service concedes people have become very careless about their own safety.
While many Ukrainians are now sadly accustomed to the drone and missile strikes, they are increasingly frayed by the relentless attacks that cut off electricity and heating in the middle of a particularly biting winter.
The result last year was a 45% decrease in exports of agricultural products, vital to Odesa's economy.
Recent testimonies reflect the dire conditions where families struggle for basic necessities, and amidst it all, Odesa remains resilient in the face of adversity.
