Kazakhstan was sitting there in an open field looking at his farms, it’s been a bad session for him, he hold onto some wheat in his hand before dropping it on the ground.

He walks along the dirt round as his gold color wings stayed close wearing the Soviet Union army uniform as he brush his hair back with his hand before he stops in his tracks leaning against a wall of the barn tired of all the rules and orders he was given missing his father crossing his arms closing eyes leaning his head back