It’s common sense – says Marta – the year ends in autumn and starts again in March. And in between? In between is hibernation, or change, or centrifugal force carrying one through the winter months, or nothing. It is the … Read More
Rosa’s daydreams fly out of the window as she travels contemplating the colours of the steppe. The semi-desert thirsty shrubs give place to green pastures, to creeks and tiny lakes with a crown of canes and then back to a … Read More
It’s only a day since we left the Aral sea behind – a small, blue, shrinking dot on the Earth’s surface that has loomed disproportionately huge in our minds and the dream of which filled up the vacuum of time … Read More
The Aral sea bed lies naked ahead. Its shells jingle like a million bells, freezing in the winter winds and boiling in the summer heat. We stand on the deck of a rusty old Russian ship that will never sink. … Read More
Painfully slow the truck stumbles through the dust. This is our baptism in Kazakh roads. “50 km take approximately 6 hours” – announces Ali, our driver, resignedly looking at the bumps ahead. Hours of absolutely nothing, a therapy for our … Read More