Sixteen wounded, most of them in the Prymorskyi district of Odesa. A tall apartment block, a five-storey building, a kindergarten, a shopping centre, a hotel, administrative offices, warehouses, a garage complex. Dozens of buses and vehicles destroyed. The target of the overnight Russian strike was not military infrastructure. It was the city itself.

"The greatest damage was recorded in the Prymorskyi district," said Serhii Lysak, head of the local military administration. Over 280 rescuers and 68 intervention vehicles. The relief centre for residents was activated immediately. That is now the routine in Odesa - the city has been a target without pause since 2022.

On the night of April 30, while Putin and Trump were talking warmly on the phone about their "similar assessments of Zelensky", Odesa was burning. Not a war between great powers - a war against ordinary people who do not sit at the negotiating table, the summits, the "timelines" for ending conflicts.

Odesa is a symbol of something specific. It is not the front line, it is the city - a Russian-speaking place that refuses to give up Ukraine. That is why Russian strikes here are different - they are meant to prove something. That Ukraine cannot defend even this important a symbol.

For the Balkans, which also lives in a place where cities often become symbols of political battles (Sarajevo, Vukovar, Pristina) - the picture is familiar. Strikes on civilian targets with a clear message: if the place has meaning, hit the place. The history of the twentieth century has taught us that this never works in the long run. But it has never stopped the powerful from using it.