The Pole is Flying in the Field

Далаһа устун уҥуор

Father and daughter... Mother and son... Grandfather and grandson... Why are they together? Why can't a mother hug her son? Why can't the father see the daughter? Too many questions and not enough answers. That's how life works. Life is like a river running through its course. It gives hope to some, and takes it away from others. Easy to lose, hard to find... Everyone has their own river, their own bank of hope...