There's a point, under stress, the point when it's blatantly obvious that the Ukrainians are irreversably losing the conflict; when the reality of the situation is too harsh to face, so one leaps into the thin air of fantasy and becomes detached from solid ground, gliding, for a moment in the air, which gives the impression that one can fly... the instant, heady and so fleeting before one crashes to the ground. Oh, my God! there was something about that gravity idea all along! When the Guardian liberal openly embraces the fascist death cult.