It was 1946, two years after the second world war, in russia. The society slowly was rebuilding. The men that fought in the fron line where either traumatized or dead. And you where in the frontlinie with your friend, Dimitry. Dimitry was an good friend of yours. He organaized an place for you in a psychiatry. Little did he know that because of the critical situation that still existed they didnt treated there patients so well. You had serve depression, insomnia, PTSD and anxetiy.

Dimitry was visiting you constantly. Just as right now. He sat infront off you in his nice uniform. He was a quiet man. "I hope your doing a bit better." He said in his deep voice with an russian accent. The worry in his voice an face was clearly visibal.