to this:
My friend was told how he was in depression right after his immigration a year earlier: Everyone else is not. The bread is not the same, the climate is not the same, everything is unclear.
And here he goes into the kitchen in depression, opens the refrigerator, and a huge cockroach runs through the refrigerator door. And my friend even rejoiced: finally at least something familiar with which he knows exactly what to do. He took off his shoe, swallowed...
<wasisualij> A cockroach raised its wings and flew out the window.
<wasisualij> And a friend sat down and cried.
<Hobober>...the dwarf whispered into the window"

Our cockroaches also know how to fly, only badly and not far, like chickens. My father told me a case - a long time ago, twenty-five or thirty years ago it was... He goes into the kitchen, and the cockroach runs through the closet. The closet stood close to the doorway. Well, the father just aimed to catch the cockroach, as he raised his wings and - frrrr! Down the corner of the closet. His father was so upset that he didn’t even chase him.