My language has the sweetest sounds, no other language has. It tastes like your favourite stew on your tongue, only my people can cook. My motherland has a hard outside and a soft inside, just like the shell of a nut, only a nutcracker can break. My hometown is the city of blacksmiths, close to the Altai mountains, home to the shamans and the unknown terrains. Where 4 countries meet and have a dialogue. My people are nomads, farmers, survivors, taught not to smile, but to overcome. My people can not be judged by the corrupt dictators running our beautiful land, but by the beauty we treasure and hide from the outside. My land has catlike-like creators, giant predators - who move gracefully through the tundra. Studying cultures for decades made me appreciate my own, now more than ever. I am here thanks to the people who came before me. The men on tall horses in the savanna have cleared the way for me.