Sitting high, I am looking away, the Georgian police is in the area of the illegal checkpoint
Elderly Eteri Gogaladze lovingly chills her husband. He wipes his eyes moist with tears with his palms. “Why did he bring me here from the village of Brolasan. Now I'm afraid for him, not for myself. I’m Georgian, maybe they won’t touch me, but I’m worried about Yura. They have lived here all their lives. And now it became restless in our quiet village. On the one hand, Georgians stand day and night, and on the other hand, Ossetians go armed. I feel sorry for them. Yesterday I made pita bread, there are pickles, cheese.