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Volgograd, Volgograd, Russian Federation 
⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️
⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬜️⬛⬛⬜️
⬜️⬜️⬜️🟥⬛🟥⬛🟥⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜️⬛
⬜️⬛⬜️🟥⬛🟥⬛🟥⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜️⬛
⬛⬛⬛🟥⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛🟥⬛⬛⬜️
⬜️⬛⬜️🟥⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜️⬜️
⬜️⬜️⬜️🟥⬛🟥⬛🟥⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜️⬜️
⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬛🟥⬛🟥⬛⬛⬛⬜️⬛⬜️⬜️
⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️
⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️
Killing soldiers wasn't so bad. I hardly remember it.
But burning those villages, watching those naked peasants cry...
I see it every day. It's not PTSD, it's the drug.
It's only been a week but it feels like a year.
Every word is getting longer, mosquitoes are getting louder.
When the drug runs out, time stops, and you're stuck in this jungle forever.
It's... grains of sand in a shrinking hour glass.
I know what comes next. I need to ask you a favor.