The road... It is a bloody scar through the heart of every son of the Chechen kind.
Look into eyes of the Nokhchy. There is ashes of the journey from the ark Nokhy to the dusty military roads. There is silence fatal desperation. There is zeal of a true believer in Higher destiny and knowledge which received before life.
What is the road for us? It is Life.
Through Death, through the Hell of misunderstanding and resistance to the Sky.
Through the silence of the timid and hatred people which have lost the right on this Road.
What are we for the Road?
The dust that remembers bare feet of prophets, which was rejected by the world?
But the dust will be scattered by the wind.
The stones, on which stood in the blood the tender heels of juvenile victims of Herod?
But the stones are erased in the dust... And the dust will be scattered by the wind.
We ourselves are the infinite Road, like infinite Time in this world blinded from the sun fury.
We are the Road. The road is we.