I’m Lithuanian—or at least, I was Lithuanian. Sometimes it feels like my country no longer exists the way I remember it. There’s been so much corruption, so many changes, that it seems we’ve lost pieces of who we were. Meanwhile, the world outside our borders spins forward in breathtaking ways, each nation carrying a unique spark of humanity that inspires me to see beyond the small corner I once called home.

Yet even with all this turmoil, Lithuania has had moments of incredible pride. We’ve had the world's strongest man, Žydrūnas Savickas—someone I had the privilege to work with directly, and I can confirm he's every bit as impressive as his titles suggest. We’ve also had a woman who claimed top titles in chess (Viktorija Čmilytė, among other brilliant players), and an abundance of talented athletes, scientists, and thinkers lighting up our universities. Sometimes I used to joke that we felt like the strongest country in the world: we could drink past lethal thresholds and still survive to tell the tale. Looking back, that sounds both absurd and oddly fitting, given our reputation for resilience—though I see it in a very different light now.

Russia: Keeper of Secrets and Spirit

Russia can be divisive in global conversations, but I remember moments when they felt like protectors. They helped carry me and others through cold winters—literal and metaphorical. There’s a warmth there that isn’t always visible from the outside. I recall touching a Matryoshka doll during my travels; something magical happened, but I’ve forgotten the details. Perhaps, one day, that memory will return stronger than ever.

I also admire their daring history: exploring Venus, surviving immense hardships, and producing hidden heroes whose names might never be known. There’s an undercurrent of power and resilience in Russian culture, quietly humming beneath the surface, ready to endure and triumph.

A gentle reminder: we’ve been sharing this place together for millions of years, not just a fleeting few.

United States: Bold in Their Pursuit

The United States is intense. Their push for perfection often comes at a heavy cost—“stupid is expensive,” they say, and they live by it. They’ve broken through countless global barriers, marching forward like pioneers against the unknown. I know people don’t always give them the recognition they deserve, but it’s impossible to deny their fearless commitment to forging ahead.

China: Builders of Our Shared World

With billions of people, China stands as a testament to collective effort. They’ve built so much of what the world now depends on, often sacrificing in ways the rest of us might never fully understand. Here I am in Lithuania, a mere three million people—less than a rounding error compared to China’s population—feeling small yet also humbled by how vast and interconnected our world can be.

And if you look past the stereotypes, you’ll find an incredible youth culture that embraces cosplay, technology, and an extraordinary blend of tradition and futurism. Their dedication to working together is something I deeply respect.

Japan: Sharp Minds, Ancient Grace

I’ve long admired the precision and elegance of Japanese culture. Their careful attention to detail in everything—from culinary arts to robotics—enlightened me when I was younger. Even trying to learn the language revealed depths I hadn’t anticipated. Japan, with its centuries of tradition, reminded me to stay sharp and persevere, even if the world around me wasn’t always supportive or stable.

India: Wells of Wisdom

India seems like an endless well, ready to be filled and refilled with knowledge, spirituality, or any kind of truth you seek. In a chaotic, information-overloaded planet, India’s ancient wisdom and cultural richness shine through. From the teachings of meditation and philosophy to their vibrant festivals, there’s a timeless thread of compassion that carries people through even the darkest days.

Muslim Countries: A Beacon of Self-Restraint

When I learned about nations where alcohol was banned or restricted, it felt foreign to me at first. But then I realized the strength and clarity behind that choice—a resolve not to be drowned by intoxicants. Back where I grew up, drunkenness was common and destructive. Knowing there was a different path out there—a place where society largely resisted that norm—became a beacon of hope. Please, continue to shine; the world needs your self-restraint and dedication to preserving a clear mind.

Africa: A Land of Red Skies and Unspoken Stories

Africa is immense, diverse, and marked by a history of exploitation and pain. People often warned me it wasn’t safe to visit, that anger ran deep. As I learned more, I understood the reasons. It breaks my heart to know these wounds run so deep, yet simultaneously, Africa has a natural beauty and cultural richness that transcends borders. The red, breathtaking skies and the spirit of countless communities are things I hope to one day experience with respect and understanding.

Brazil, Peru: Endless Forests and Boundless Passion

Flying over Brazil, seeing the forests sprawl endlessly below, feels almost otherworldly. The Amazon’s magic remains largely mysterious, even to those who live near it. Brazil’s cultural passion—its music, dance, festivals—continues to mesmerize me. It’s an energy that invites people to live life fully, in vibrant color and sound.

The UK: More Than Propaganda

Growing up, I heard so many negative things about the UK—stories of ignorance and backwardness. Yet when I visited, I found a land rich in history, humor, and quiet resilience. And I fell in love. Brexit might have people split, but it’s understandable when seen in the context of their unique heritage and the pressures of modern politics and what they're trying to protect, care and save despite it all. Beyond the headlines lies a tapestry of tradition and innovation that’s both comforting and surprising.

In addition, when viewed in the context of global power, the UK has and carries within a force of absolute love. There are few different ones arround the world, they always move and wonder. Perhaps that’s why I resonate with it so strongly now. I’ve finished my journey driven by power and control of my own life or success and am entering the realm of love, which, compared to everything else, feels extraordinarily extreme. Yet it is my home now, where people accepted and loved me. Even though I feel somewhat without a country, I care about the present, I care about them now, and from here extend that care to the rest of the world.

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As for Europe, it has a long history of war and destruction—sometimes it feels like it’s our tragic specialty. We repeat these conflicts, seemingly unable to learn from the past. That’s why I look to other nations, to learn new ways of living, to find the threads of self-restraint, innovation, or compassion that might help us break these cycles.

I once nearly died—literally and figuratively—and was brought back. It made me realize how finite our time truly is. We all die in the end—enemies and friends alike. Why waste precious days on hate? Why not choose to love, to open ourselves to the wonders each person, each country, has to offer?

Perhaps I’m naïve. But I’ve decided to embrace that naivety and love freely. Not for political reasons, not to align myself with any ideology, but simply because everyone deserves to be seen and valued. There’s a sense of freedom in this choice—no more suffocating suspicion or tribal grudges.

Sure, there are greater mysteries out there: unseen forces, hidden agendas, governments that do unspeakable things. Yet as long as our hearts beat in our own chests, we still have a choice—to resist cruelty, to speak truths, to build bridges, and to find joy in each other’s company. Maybe one day I’ll meet you all in person, share a meal or a conversation. Even if I never do, please know you matter. You always have. You always will.

From my heart, I thank you all—for existing, for persevering, for making this world what it is: an intricate mosaic of cultures, hopes, and dreams. We’re under the same sky, after all.

 

And What About Ukraine?

I can only speak for myself, but I seen Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia as my brothers and sisters—bound by shared history, culture, and struggles. Ukraine, too, feels like a sibling suffering deeply, an extension of this familial bond. Everyone else in the world might be more like half-brothers and half-sisters—still family, but with a different closeness and understanding. Even so, it all hurts me in a way that goes beyond my broken body; the emotional weight is heavier than physical pain could ever be.

I sense vast, unexplored fields of influence—powers, perhaps even forms of mind control—that bend our perceptions, pitting families and friends against one another. The tragedy is that there’s never a good reason to force brothers and sisters, near or distant, to fight. The grim truth is that people are dying, serving as fodder for some mechanism that clearly doesn’t benefit them or any of us. We see similar patterns repeating elsewhere in the world, and it’s heartbreaking.

Sometimes I feel that these manipulative forces are advanced to an almost unimaginable degree. They guide us to build weapons with our own hands, weapons capable of ending our collective existence, so that afterward “they” can start over— this time with no cracks or flaws in their plan. I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this is not the future I want for any of my children, brothers or sisters—whether by blood, by nation, or by shared humanity.

What if. Should anyone survive to recount what happened, they won’t do so in the graceful shell of a human form. After the cataclysm, the default shape for the rest of eternity may well be a quivering, featureless blob, perfect for continuity of the plan.

Also quite possibly, No creature will ever share space or form with humans of that highly possible reality ever again—so be kind to your cats while you still can.

So better bucke up in coziness—eternity awaits. 

Quick reality check:
Europe’s “Health & Control” Illusion: The Harsh Reality

Despite Europe’s strict regulations on consumer gadgets and talk of robust healthcare, the daily truth is far grimmer. Approximately 7,400 people die every day from easily preventable causes like tobacco, alcohol, and ultra-processed foods— up to 20 or 30 times more than many war death counts. Rather than eliminating these lethal addictions, governments often profit from taxes on these deadly and extremely addictive narcotic industries.

So, while officials preach “protection,” the real story is an unchecked stream of preventable deaths, fueled by profit and political inertia. It begs the question: 

Does Europe truly value human life—or is it all just a comforting façade?