Ukrainian soldiers find themselves on the frontline of life and death in the eastern conflict zone, yet in the western rear, they celebrate vacations with their families and even baptize one of their young daughters. These two spaces, intersecting east and west, seem to inhabit distinctly different times. However, throughout the entirety of the film, there's an underlying nonchalant energy stemming from the soldiers' seemingly matter-of-fact attitude towards accepting and living through the war. Conversations among soldiers during their vacations shed light on the intricate historical relationship with Russia. Stories shared reveal a generation that had held a friendly view of Russia but only began reflecting on it after the war, their dialogues comfortably and freely navigating this subject—almost akin to how one might discuss their more traditionally conservative parents' political views. The frontline in the east, observed alongside the record of the co-director's engagement with medical support within the military, feels reminiscent of interfaces and first-person perspectives in video games like frequent gun battles. Everyday dialogues about the relationship between Ukraine and Russia, scenes that seem almost gamified in their depiction of the battlefield, become progressively more unfamiliar despite their initial familiarity. Does this point towards evidence of Ukraine's unsettling present, with its eerie nonchalance, and potentially a commentary on the worldwide prevalence of conflict in the present age? The closing subtitle on the faded-out screen, "In this film, the characters speak to each other in Russian and Ukrainian," carries significant weight.