World without borders

Breath in – breath out. Breath in – breath out. I can't get enough of it. It fells like I'm not breathing but drinking this crystal pure air. Mountain peaks around us are shivering in golden haze. Sun is going down.
Our shaky minivan follows another bend of the bumpy road and stops right before the bubbling water stream.
We have to ford the river, - Ruslan, our guide smiles slyly. - There used to be a road here, you know. Local authorities have even taken the river in different direction. But three month ago river came back and destroyed the road. Mother Nature always claims what's hers.
Ruslan looks proud, as if he is a good friend with Mother Nature itself, or a close relative. He takes of his shoes and leads us into the stream.
My feet turn red in the ice-cold water, but what I feel is far from discomfort: I feel unexplainable happiness, I feel like laughing, jumping from one shining wet stone to another. I feel like singing.
I'm not even surprised when Ruslan suddenly starts to sing in stringy, melodic language.
This is an old Ingush song, - he says. - It's about mountains, love and going home. Every Ingush man wants to return home – to his family tower. You will see these towers now – they've remained untouched. Even the ancient burials are still filled with human bones.
We're here. Green valley lays beneath the gray sky. It is covered by remains. Remains of the old Ingush villages. Magnificent family towers are rising to the sky, as if they were not build by human, but created by the nature itself. People leaved these villages no more than sixty years ago. They were forced to do so. In 1944 on behalf of the Soviet government half a million people were accused of “helping nazi occupants” and deported to other regions of the country. They were forced to leave home in 15 minutes and put into freight trains. They were taken into obscurity. Many of them have never made it.
I've heard this story before, and hundreds of stories alike. In this place, protected by peaceful mountains, ruled by the laws of nature, human violence seems so meaningless, that I feel ashamed of being a human for the first time in my life.
Those who could not leave, were killed on the spot. - Ruslan says calmly. His grandparents were deported, his parents were born in exile. And now he's here, working with tourists, building up his home anew.
Sun has almost gone down but I put on my sun glasses. My eyes burn.

Djeirah, Ingushetia.