1. 10 November


    Photographing and writing a lot here in Uzbekistan, i think about the last weeks since i left Iran, crossing Turkmenistan, and hanging out in this family for three days, drinking vodka, talking about the old soviet union, eating homemade “Plov”, looking at the kids fighting and then laughing, the chickens, the rabbits, the homemade bread… a great time.. Reaching the old city of Bukhara, getting lost in the tiny streets for hours, taking photographs, pausing for some “Chaï” with the old mens, and looking at the light going down on the labyrintic centuries old neighborhoods. And this little chill, that comes over you.. Fears left, for excitement and dreams, more and more everyday about what’s next, and what the road will bring along. This is great…

    Photographing and writing a lot here in Uzbekistan, i think about the last weeks since i left Iran, crossing Turkmenistan, and hanging out in this family for three days, drinking vodka, talking about the old soviet union, eating homemade “Plov”, looking at the kids fighting and then laughing, the chickens, the rabbits, the homemade bread… a great time..

    Reaching the old city of Bukhara, getting lost in the tiny streets for hours, taking photographs, pausing for some “Chaï” with the old mens, and looking at the light going down on the labyrintic centuries old neighborhoods. And this little chill, that comes over you..

    Fears left, for excitement and dreams, more and more everyday about what’s next, and what the road will bring along. This is great…

     
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