Two days ago, Assylai came into the University with huge bouquet of flowers, which was shimmering in all colours. It was not a gift of a mysterious fan – but a good existential reminder for any journalist.

On this day she went into the city – to buy a case for her mobile phone. It was cold out there – Almaty weather is not so gentle these days – so she dressed warmly.

While walking in the street, she noticed an old woman in poor clothes with flowers in her hands. The woman trembled because of cold, her teeth pounded and the hands were freezing – but she stayed, continuing to sell her flowers.

At first, Assylai didn’t pay attention to her. But when she came alongside her, the woman softly asked: “Don’t you want to buy my flowers, girl?”

It was clear that no one was going to buy the flowers in this street, especially with such weather. But for some reason, the woman stayed, desperately trying to sell them.

Assylai bought the flowers. After she took them from her hands, the woman started thanking her. The gratitude and warmth of this woman was so big that the mood of Assylai instantly skyrocketed.

The rest of the day went pretty well – and the positive mood, gifted by this woman, was preserved until the end.

And even though it can sound like a usual human story, for me it was the reminder for what we fight. Because this is the meaning of our profession, isn’t it? Help the helpless.

We write stories, we create attention, we scream and yell at every corner, trying as hell to attract the people – and everything for one purpose: to make an invisible people visible – and give them some attention they so desperately need.