On both sides of Dokivska Street and the small park leading to the steps of the Unity church in Kyiv’s western Kotsyubyns’ke suburb, hundreds of men, women and children stood holding roses and carnations.
The only sound disturbing a recording of the sorrowful male voices in the folk song Plyve Kacha was that of the grief of Eleonora Maltseva’s mother, Iryna, awaiting a coffin in the shade of the maple and oak trees outside the large yellow-brick church.
