We met Ani Hovhannisyan in front of the Artsakhkat (ArtskahMilk) plant in Stepanakert at 7 o'clock in the morning. 

She had walked for an hour to get to the plant and secure her spot in the line of people waiting to buy milk and whatever else was available.

The mother of two got there too late. By the time it was her turn, the plant had run out of everything. 

Hovhannisyan returned the following morning at 8:30. Two hundred and fifty people were already waiting. She was able to buy some sour cream and called her kids with the good news. 

"I don't know when I will find sour cream for them again," says Hovhannisyan.

Villagers can no longer bring dairy products to the capital given the lack of gasoline.  

“Whatever they have, they keep for themselves, they don't sell it. Maybe they are preparing for winter," says thirty-year-old Hovhannisyan.

Bread is also in short supply.

Ani and her husband spend their days in queues. 

"One day, my husband went to the bread line at six in the morning and came back empty-handed at eleven. That same day he left at ten at night and came back with bread at 3am,” she tells Hetq.

When the couple can’t stand in line for food for hours at a time, their mothers or neighbors share what they have. “I can live without bread, so can my husband. But the children can't. There’s nothing else to eat. That’s why bread is so important.”

Ani Hovhannisyan and her daughters

Hovhannisyan says she must sometimes remind her daughters that the country is under a blockade and that they can’t have whatever they want.

"I say, you are already grown up, don't you know that there is a blockade. The shops are empty. Where can I find what you want?” she tells them.

When taxis and public transport were available, Ani took the children to dance and singing lessons. That’s no longer possible.

"It's a two-hour drive from home to the music school. We will have to choose another school closer to home," she says.

The family has a small plot of land near their house where they grow beans, cucumbers, pumpkins and tomatoes. The garden also serves as a green respite where the family can get some downtime.  

"I talk to the plants in the vegetable garden all day. The kids think I'm crazy, but plants need to be given love and pampered. They grow better," says Hovhannisyan.

They also keep chickens, but the feed will soon run out.

"I bought wheat and still have some. I must think of something before it’s finished. I often give eggs to my friends and neighbors, so they have something to eat.”

The uncertainty of what tomorrow will bring worries Hovhannisyan and all Artsakh residents.

"I had two pieces of squash and decided to pickle them for the winter. But I haven't until now. I don't know why. People are preparing for the winter, but I still don't know whether too as well. Will we enjoy those things?" asks Hovhannisyan. 

She says current conditions only allow her to focus on the present.