Vintage photos and story

I got into a car that was going from Yerevan to Tbilisi. Usually it is a van, but when there aren't enough people in it, it's just a car. I had a neighbor with me, an Italian girl who had decided to travel through Armenia and Georgia. We chatted, the view was very pretty, the border between Armenia and Georgia is very lovely! We stopped at a large store to buy food and go to the bathroom, I got myself an Armenian flatbread with greens, so did the Italian girl, and then in the car she asked me what this flatbread was called. I, without thinking twice, turned to the driver in Russian. The company I usually travel through is from Armenia, and the drivers always talk to you in Russian. I asked how this flatbread is called, to which the driver replied in English that he does not know, he's from Georgia in general. And I thought "okay, I see," apparently he was offended that I addressed him in Russian. And his reaction made me a little depressed, because I felt that I behaved incorrectly when I addressed him in a language other than English. Sometimes in Georgia it can be difficult to do this, you start speaking in English, they talk back to you in Russian or they do not understand you, somewhere they speak to you in English, somewhere they do not =)

I treat it as a historical moment - Georgia is actively leaving the Russian language, switching to English. The driver then listened to Italian and Russian songs, spoke to me in Russian and English, and I always answered in English. He also smoked cigarettes nonstop. I swear, six or seven an hour, and I sat behind him, somehow overwhelmed by his unpleasant response to the Russian language. I felt guilty and never had the courage to tell him to stop smoking.

I had never sniffed so many cigarettes in my life. But I promised myself that I would no longer be silent in such situations, because my body and my life are mine, and may I be told that I have no rights, and may I be dropped off in the middle of the road, but I will not be suffocated by the toxic choices of another. Just for the record, I'm okay with people smoking around me. But I swear, you can die that way when someone smokes 6-7 cigarettes an hour at you and the road was 5 hours long.

All kinds of situations happen. Tolerance is very much brought up in all of us, especially if it is related to some political or human situation, which sometimes leads to some amoral behavior towards ourselves. For example as in my case, I should have just asked not to smoke and that was it. But I was afraid.

These pictures are from the apartment I've been living in for the last two months. It's a very beautiful apartment, it's fun, but with Soviet coziness and style. I've managed to find my office here, let's say my workspace. In the evenings I often go out on the balcony and feel like I'm in a movie - night, moon, people, music and crickets. It's also where the swallows like to fly and sing. It's cool to stand on the balcony to some beautiful and mysterious ambient music like Tim Hecker

It's always interesting to watch other people's style choices and households, you kind of get filled with it, you live in it!

I'm lucky for rented apartments, there's something interesting about that.

And whether one day I'll have my own nest to which I'll bring my experience, which I'm observing now, we'll find out. I will say this, I want to, but as events unfold and the world moves somewhere, I'm a little haunted by the age-old mistake/attempt to start building my own nest. And once that happens, then the relationship or the country fall apart , and in fact I really wanted to travel, see the world, and then decide where to settle down).

I'm both very tired and everything seems very interesting at the same time. I feel like I'm growing at times like this. Probably I look at those who went to live in Paris or US with a kind of aspiration. A bit resentful of myself for not taking care of myself when times were good. But at the same time I honestly realize that as a model I wouldn't want to be in Paris and or America, but as a musician I do.

I don't give a fuck, I want to stop and accept my silliness, my poverty (although money is a relative concept) to grow, because the eternal cover of emptiness, like the brain's attempt at self-preservation from pain, just has to go in.

I've been a lot of places and talked to a lot of people. And I've done a lot of things. I'm tired, I want to invest my time in a product that will be with me and after me. That's how it turned out with photography, that's how it turns out with writing and music.

And to you, my dear reader, my subscriber, my patron, I want to say thank you so much for your time and your subscription. It means a lot to me, I'm living off that money and moving toward my dream.

I love that I'm changing, that my creativity is changing and you're staying with me!!!!

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