I’m alive – Wagner mercenary chief, Prigozhin resurfaces, debunks reports of his ‘elimination’

Under the cover of darkness, soldiers reinforce trenches and carry ammunition boxes near Bakhmut.

A Russian air strike on a high rise residential building has killed a married couple, according to the Donetsk regional prosecutor’s office.

Ukraine has opened a war crimes investigation into the attack on Vuhledar, which left the couple’s 19-year-old daughter and another resident, 53, injured.

Explosions destroyed the entrance to the building, and damaged windows and balconies.

Russia has placed an advanced intercontinental ballistic missile on combat duty, according to Russian news agencies.

The Sarmat – nicknamed Satan II – is capable of carrying multiple nuclear warheads and will make Russia’s enemies “think twice”, Vladimir Putin has previously said.

It replaces the R-36, known by the NATO reporting name Satan, and reportedly has a short initial launch phase that allows little time for surveillance systems to track it.

Around two months after invading Ukraine, Mr Putin said the Sarmat would “reliably ensure the security of Russia from external threats and make those who, in the heat of aggressive rhetoric, try to threaten our country, think twice”.

Ukrainian soldiers fire weapons and mortars near Bakhmut, while others take rest in makeshift beds.

Earlier this week, deputy defence minister Hanna Maliar said Kyiv’s troops were advancing near the city – the only one Russia captured in its offensive earlier this year.

Heavy battles were engulfing villages south of it, she said.

Oleksandr Syrskyi, commander of Ukraine’s ground forces, reported a “positive dynamic” near Bakhmut

A surge in demand for kamikaze drone insurance has been reported among Russian citizens and businesses.

Some insurers have been selling terrorism packages while others have agreed to pay out for “falling flying objects”, accorded to Izvestia.

Inquiries have risen most in western Russia, where it borders Ukraine, and in Moscow, the Russian newspaper said.

One company, RESO-Garantiya, charges between 500 and 5,000 roubles (£4 to £41) for collision coverage, its deputy director general told the news outlet.

Over at insurer AlfaStrakhovanie, terrorism is not excluded, its property director Denis Titov said.

Ukrainian drone attacks in Belgorod, Kursk, Moscow and other regions have become more frequent in recent months.

Deadly strikes have hit the Belgorod and Kursk regions of Russia, according to their governors.

Artillery killed one civilian and wounded two more, said Belgorod’s Vyacheslav Gladkov.

Ukrainian drones hit the Valuysky district, damaging one home, he said.

A woman was wounded during shelling of a village in neighboring Kursk, said governor Roman Starovoit.

He blamed Ukraine, which did not say whether they launched the attacks. 

Sky News cannot independently verify these battlefield reports.

 Missiles and artillery continued to wound and kill civilians across Ukraine today.

Sumy: A 32-year-old police investigator was killed and two other people were wounded when Russian shells hit the town of Seredyna-Buda.

Kherson: One person was killed and two were wounded in the south of region by shelling, according to governor Oleh Prokudin. 

Donetsk: Four people were wounded in the occupied city by Ukrainian artillery, said Moscow-installed mayor Aleksei Kulemzin.

Dnipropetrovsk: Four people were wounded during artillery shelling and drone attacks in the Nikopol district, governor Serhii Lysak said.

Sky News cannot independently verify these battlefield reports.

Under the fire of Russian bombs, one city in Ukraine has come up with a novel solution for sending pupils back to school on Monday – teaching them underground.

Approximately 1,000 students in Kharkiv will spend their lessons in a converted metro beneath the city.

“This is the first step, and when parents see the conditions created here, I am sure the number of applicants will grow,” sayid mayor Ihor Terekhov.

“No other city in the world has experience in things like this – Kharkiv is the first” said mayor Ihor Terekhov.

A “nervous” Russia has likely been sending its northern offensive forces to help defend the southern front from a potential Ukrainian breakthrough, a military analyst has said.

The Russian frontline is looking “increasingly fragile” as Ukraine makes “slow progress” through the village of Robotyne, south of Zaporizhzhia, Sean Bell told Sky News.

Ukraine’s progress comes despite “significant layers” of Russian defences in the region, and there is evidence Russia has responded by removing soldiers from its offensive operation in the city of Kupiansk to bolster its forces in the south, he said.

“That would imply that they are very nervous about the breakthrough that might be happening there,” said Bell.

“While we are not seeing a breakthrough as yet, there is mounting evidence that Ukrainian pressure is building on an increasingly fragile Russian frontline.”

Ukraine claimed it had taken Robotyne on Monday, and it is throught Kyiv wants to push south from the village to the Sea of Azov and split the Russian army in two.

Compounding Russia’s problems is an apparent shortage of counterbattery radar systems, Bell said.

He explained the radars allow Moscow’s troops to locate Ukrainian artillery cannons when they fire, but without them Russian forces “are facing an absolute deluge of Ukrainian artillery rounds which is causing them a great deal of difficulty on the frontline”.

Ukraine has called the Nobel Foundation’s decision to bar Russia and Belarus from its Stockholm prize ceremony a restoration of justice.

If you’re just joining us, the foundation has cancelled an invitation to the two nations, and Iran, after widespread criticism.

“Thank you to everyone who demanded that justice be restored,” said Ukrainian foreign ministry spokesperson Oleg Nikolenko.

“We are convinced that a similar decision should be made regarding the Russian and Belarusian ambassadors in Oslo,” referring to celebrations that take place in Norway after the ceremony in Sweden.

The Swedish prime minister echoed Mr Nikolenko’s comments and welcomed the decision.

“The many and strong reactions show that the whole of Sweden unambiguously stand on Ukraine’s side against Russia’s appalling war of aggression.”

The leaders of several Swedish political parties threatened to boycott the prize ceremonies when the foundation initially invited Russia and Belarus on Thursday.

On a recent Sunday, Oliver Hernandez jumped out of the van driven by his partner. It was 6 a.m. The mom-and-pop shops along Fifth Avenue in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, were shuttered.

A few folding tables were chained to street signs. A chair was tucked behind a gate.

“I am the first one,” Mr. Hernandez, 41, said. “Most vendors come at 8.”

From the back of the van, he started pulling out buckets of flowers, then his backpack, a chair, a table, a canopy and pots of palm trees.

In 15 minutes, he had set up a garden by the traffic light on the corner. He put the less expensive flowers — carnations and baby’s breath — on the left. Lilies and roses on the right. Then he secured the canopy, tying it to the traffic light with a string.

Mr. Hernandez, who immigrated from Mexico in 2013, is a third- generation flower seller.

For decades, some people — like Mr. Hernandez — have taken a chance, and set up stands along Sunset Park’s Fifth Avenue, a vibrant commercial strip of taquerias, sneaker stores, bakeries, dress shops and fruit markets. The neighborhood has a large Latin American and Asian population.

Like 19th century homesteaders, vendors find a free spot — and make it their own. Geography is important: “A corner is a good spot,” Mr. Hernandez said. “People stop for the light.” He has occupied his corner most weekends for four years.

Once claimed, a spot needs to be occupied: Newcomers worry that if they miss a weekend, they will be pushed out.

At the turn of the 20th century, an immigrant selling lemon ices on the street could dream of opening a candy store or ice cream parlor. Many immigrants made that leap, opening small stores by cobbling together money from family and friends.

But most vendors on Fifth Avenue are not dreaming about a shop: Brick and mortar stores are struggling. And the vendors are trying to stay afloat.

At daybreak, the sidewalks are empty.  By noon they are bustling with vendors.

These stands are assembled each morning during the week and on weekends. They are as simple as a blanket on the sidewalk covered with rows of bracelets. Or a shopping cart topped by a plank that holds cameras.

They can be elaborate: A woman strings cords around her truck, then hangs children’s party dresses from it.

Isai Gonzalez, 28, erects an 8- by 12-foot metal shed with a red canopy. It takes him 45 minutes. “I had a vision to make it like a house — with a roof,” he said. “I can have my business if it’s raining or cold.”

Isai Gonzalez saved $1,000 by selling masks online and decided to start a hat business.

These vendors arrive by subway, pushing shopping carts filled with wares. They walk from apartments, pulling wagons loaded with homemade food. People show up in vans, trucks and on mo-peds.

In summer, the line of vendors swells as people set up grills and sell sliced mangoes and horchata. Some children accompany their parents, sitting on crates.

By nightfall, all portable real estate is folded or taken apart, packed up — and carried away.

There are underlying tensions: Most vendors in Sunset Park do not have a permit — and a ticket can carry a fine of $1,000. Since the city capped the number of permits years ago, most of the city’s estimated 20,000 vendors operate without one.

In early April, the police and parks enforcement officers shut down the large Sunday market in Sunset Park called Plaza Tonatiuh. In late July, sanitation workers did a sweep through Corona Plaza, renowned for its lively food scene.

Vendors on Fifth Avenue can feel on edge: “We are always alert in case something happens,” said Eduardo Hernandez, 24, who sells tamales with his sister, Yoremi Hernandez, 22.

Some sellers are undocumented immigrants — and fear being deported.

And many vendors worry: Will I go home empty-handed?

Eduardo Hernandez and his sister, Yoremi, sell their mother’s tamales. They started last year with just a cooler.

Yet, it is a surprisingly stable scene: Some vendors have been there longer than the stores around them. They have raised children and bought houses. Sandy Yu, 47, a mother of four, has been repairing watches on Fifth Avenue for about 16 years.

A gregarious fruit seller, stationed near Ms. Yu, has been there 25 years; people remember buying fruit from him when they were children. A clothing vendor on the same block has been there 31 years.

Sometimes when a vendor steps away, another vendor will keep an eye out.

In recent years, Sunset Park has seen a good deal of change: The development of Industry City — an enormous multi-use complex — on its western edge has produced tensions over gentrification.

Yet, Ms. Yu, the watch repairer, and others describe a gradual economic downturn that started years ago.

“It’s been little by little,” Ms. Yu said, referring to her business drying up.

Ten years ago, on a Saturday, her customers stood in line. People wanted battery changes for their watches. “Now, there are days with no money,” she said.

Yet some young vendors have high hopes.

Mr. Gonzalez, who owns the metal shed, saved $1000 and decided to start a business. He did some thinking: “What do people need? Hats!”

“I’m excited to do promotion,” he said about his two-year-old business. He is on Instagram and is developing a website.

This summer has been slow. “I am only making $600 a week,” he said. But he is undeterred. Unlike many other vendors on street, Mr. Gonzalez wants the brick and mortar. “My ambition is to own a store.”

Ariel Huerta and his mother, Fabiola Gonzalez, are part of an entrepreneurial family. He likes being his own boss: “I don’t have to conform to expectations.”

“I’m the one who ends up pushing it,” Ariel Huerta, 22, said good-naturedly about the shopping cart loaded with 50 bottles of honey, two tables, and three chairs.

Most Sundays, Mr. Huerta, his mother, Fabiola Gonzalez, 53, and sister, Keren Huerta, 21, thread their way from their apartment in Bushwick to Fifth Avenue. It is about an hour and a half subway commute.

He is not complaining: On a good day selling honey, he makes about $400. On a bad day, $110 to $150. “It’s still substantial,” he said.

Honey is a family tradition: His grandfather kept bees on his property in Soto Y Gama, a village southeast of Mexico City. “He taught my mother and uncle because he needed help,” Mr. Huerta said. The family sold honey in the local marketplace.

His uncle, Florentino Gonzalez, 51, now lives in Albany and works full-time in a pizzeria. “The beekeeping thing is his side gig,” Mr. Huerta said. He keeps hives in Schenectady and sells honey through word of mouth.

“It was my mom’s idea to sell it here,” Mr. Huerta said. She knew a few vendors on Fifth Avenue.

His mother, who works as a housekeeper in Williamsburg, has her own table across the street from her children to try and catch more customers.

“Working with your mom, there’s always going to be disagreements,” he said. “But it’s not unpleasant.”

Recently, his uncle got a new idea — to brew and sell mead, which is made from fermented honey and water. “My mom’s up for that idea,” he said.

Mr. Huerta has his own plan: “I want to save up and buy a small house in Mexico.”

“I see how my uncle and relatives live,” he added, referring to their round-the-clock hours in New York. “Is that what awaits me? No thank you!”

“Take it home, try it,” Felix Vasquez can be heard telling people who are browsing. For years, he has relished his connection with customers.

A ramp on 53rd Street becomes a dollar store when Felix Vasquez, 60, shows up.

“Most vendors get six feet,” he said. “Here,” he pointed toward a long, unused ramp that runs alongside a Rite-Aid. “Unlimited!”

On a recent Sunday, children went from crate to crate, pulling out new and used Hess trucks, pop-up books and games, their parents trailing them. “Hess trucks can go for $100 online,” he said. “I don’t go past 10.”

A father came up, offering $5 for a truck. Mr. Vasquez took it. “I use discretion,” he said. “If they don’t have it, I change the price.”

“Thirty percent of my customers know me,” he added. “Seventy percent are new.” He started on that corner in 2014; he took a three-year break when he had cancer.

Another Sunday, his 81-year-old father-in-law helped him put out drills, leaf blowers and power cords. Within two minutes, half a dozen men were rooting in the bins.

“They’re mostly laborers, young guys,” said Mr. Vasquez, who lives on Staten Island and works as a super in Brooklyn. “They generally don’t have their own tools and can’t get ahead.”

Mr. Vasquez buys pallets — bins of closed-out merchandise — from stores for $200.

“If I buy one pallet, the other one is free,” he explained.

On his best days, he makes a profit of $200.

His four grown children don’t understand what draws him. They say, “You’re crazy staying there all day!”

Jaquelin Paola Herrera Chaclan, right, fled Guatemala about seven years ago and now sells crocheted flowers on the street.Credit…Todd Heisler/The New York Times

For months, Jaquelin Paola Herrera Chaclan felt torn.

She wanted to sell her colorful crocheted flowers on Fifth Avenue. “But I was afraid to be deported,” said Ms. Paola. About seven years ago, she fled Guatemala with her 3-year-old daughter.

She worried about not having a permit. “I was also afraid — what if I don’t sell anything?”

But last December, Ms. Paola her husband, Adolfo Tzoc, their daughter, and toddler son stepped out of a cab. They unloaded a table and baskets of her tall sunflowers.

“We go all together,” her husband, 34, had told her. He works in a lamp store in Manhattan. “If people say we need to leave, we’ll leave. But we’ll try.”

Since then, Ms. Paola, 31, has been vending most weekends, accompanied by her daughter, Alejandra, 11. Two flowers cost $15. There are tough days — but also times when she glimpses possibilities: A woman recently ordered a dozen vases — filled with her flowers — for a birthday party.

Ms. Paola is passionate about her flowers. At the stand, her hands rarely stop moving as she crochets red roses.

Alejandra is also devoted: “I want to help my mom,” she said. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

As a child, Ms. Paola helped her parents.

She comes from a long line of weavers. On weekends, her parents drove to a town three hours from their village in Guatemala. “They had a stand, same as on Fifth,” she said.

On a recent Sunday, the avenue was crowded: Three girls stood admiring Ms. Paola’s flowers. Both mother and daughter looked flushed, happy; they had sold five flowers and three bracelets. Her husband looked on, holding their son.

At 7 p.m., Ms. Paola and her husband lifted the heavy container packed with her wares. Their children hurrying after them, they practically flew down the street toward their car.

A version of this article appears in print on  , Section RE, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: A Future Staked On the Sidewalk. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

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