The river creates and the river destroys in an eternal cycle that even man can't escape.

Swollen up by the spring inundation, the river falls down on the lowlands and before eventually throwing rocks and silts in the sea, gathers them here and there in the middle of the river. In several days, even sometimes overnight, in these shoals rather large islands are created. Soil of such an island is rich and fertile. An old man and his young granddaughter decide to grow corn on this island. But soldiers pass by.

The Inguri River forms a natural border dividing Georgia from Abkhazia. One of the spring floods has created a little island in the middle of the river, as if made for the cultivation of corn. At least, this is the belief of an old peasant, whose sunburned face resembles the landscape he has trodden for dozens of years.—AnonymousB