Ivanka, sitting behind an old oak table, slowly unfolded a brochure covered in the dust of time. Her fingers trembled as she turned the pages, and her eyes gleamed with pride. Each grape variety on the brochure's pages seemed like a part of her grandmother's soul. Thirty varieties, each with its own unique taste and aroma, had become an integral part of the State Register of Plant Varieties.
The brochure's headline proudly spelled out information about how these grape varieties had contributed to the country's economic improvement. Exports, patents, and attention from the global market—all were the result of her grandmother's diligent work. For Ivanka, her grandmother was not just a relative, but a source of inspiration and respect.
However, the preceding evening brought Ivanka the bitterness of disappointment. Visiting the embassy of her country in distant Asia, she faced failure.
-This isn't a thoroughfare, - hissed the consul, bringing his face directly to Ivanka's. She understood that it was a hint that she had come without the required online registration. And he hissed because, most likely, there were recording devices, and he didn't want his voice to be recorded. Ivanka began to explain that she had come to the embassy to renew her passport.
- You must speak the state language - the consul hissed with a cold authoritarian tone. Ivanka spoke the language of the enemy, having acquired it with her mother's milk, listening to lullabies in that land that passed to a new state with a new language she hadn't mastered perfectly.
- But I've been living here, far away, for 30 years! - exclaimed Ivanka, trying to switch to the new language. The consul demanded Ivanka speak the state language, ignoring her 30 years of life in Asia. She faced incomprehension and an inability to switch to the new state language.
All of Ivanka's attempts to use the new language were met with difficulties. Her mind was filled with English words and the local dialect, but not the language of her former homeland. misunderstanding and rudeness, but she held her ground.
Leaving the embassy, Ivanka cried for the first time, so hard that it was difficult to stop.
- I can't just forget my native language, which turns out is no longer native. My soul always yearns for the home where I grew up!
The bitter pain of what she had lost and the walls of a collapsed world were reflected in her tears.
Sitting in the car, Ivanka opened a message from her mother on WhatsApp.
"Uncle Yan has died. On his birthday. Murdered."
The message was about the death of her mother's brother, killed on his birthday by his childhood friend. The news of a relative's death against the backdrop of events at the embassy brought Ivanka even greater helplessness. Funerals and legal support were impossible due to diplomatic disagreements between the countries where her uncle died and the geographic territory to which her passport belonged.
Bitter reality collapsed on Ivanka, leaving her alone and full of grief in distant Asia. Misfortune upon misfortune, she had to overcome difficulties in the 21st century, where diplomats and international peace organizations remain in disagreements and conflicts, lacking knowledge on how to communicate and negotiate. Meanwhile, normal people are facing sorrow and forced geopolitical separation.