Pain flowed to Russia. With effort, she passed her ragged, long body through the slopes, swallowed dust from the heaps and collected spikelets for food among the armored vehicles burned in the fields. She dragged herself with all her might on crutches, she was pushed in strollers and carried swaddled in her arms. They drove in cars full of simple belongings. It was by them, by cars, that it became clear: but the pain itself is poor, the rich do not drive such old "Zhiguli." She was stopped, tortured and secretly kicked at checkpoints by her native Ukrainian army, accusing her of betrayal and threatening to excommunicate her from her homeland, or vice versa - not to let her go anywhere.