It's coming up to the point where I intend to leave Armenia again, with the destination of Georgia set, though for a longer duration than before. I stood up on the balcony and watched as the sun went down and the lights began to turn on. The cars driving between the trees which swayed with the wind. Sheets of metal threatening to break off and fly elsewhere on the more dated apartment buildings, the wooden frame beneath revealed. Flickers of lightning were seen in the distance, at first I questioned their legitimacy as I doubted whether I had just seen brief flashes of light from cars or whether it came from the distant mountains; another flash followed and verified the upcoming stormy weather. No rain yet. Slight cracks of thunder in the distance to be heard. I watched as people walked across the street. As life went on beneath me. I love this area, and it reminds me of the fact that I do still love Armenia despite the recent statements I've been making about hating parts of it. That's still true, but coming to these areas again I realise that there are many things to still be enjoyed. These rustic Soviet apartment buildings were mixed with new ones which actually looked quite similar despite being more modern, I liked that. Still carrying that brutalist modernism and maintaining the area's aesthetic, unlike many other places.
I set the camera up on the balcony and hit the record button, letting it run from this similar composition for ten whole minutes. Perhaps some nostalgia, a want to hold onto this moment for much longer, to have a reminder of the parts I did enjoy. And I have great memories from this place. The cold nights, looking out with a blanket, some tea. Thinking about how I ended up here and how fun it was. The unknown that was found within the horizon. Flickers of light and snowy mountains. The perfect spot for me to reflect as I usually do.
While recording I didn't pay much attention to the camera, I looked around at the area and just observed. Appreciating the beautifully relaxing cooler air from that high up, the wind that was strong and threw my shirt around. In some areas there are dense living, and I thought of the many stories that unfold within this tight space. The ways in which people live and come together to share a single building they each call home. Not my kind of place, but an interesting look at how for some it might actually be. There's so much change around us at all times that I guess sometimes it's hard to notice the changes in ourselves. And in this moment I started to. I felt older, more mature, more aware of where I was heading and why. Excited to do it, ready to face problems and start adapting instead of hiding away. I felt an aspect of life I hadn't before. The realisation that I was pushing 30 and no longer a kid anymore. I looked back and realised I had changed a lot over the past year, done many different things and adapted in ways I never thought I could. In such a short period of time too. It's surprising, but I'm glad it happened and I'm thankful to those around me who had contributed in any capacity. The camera continued to record as the minutes went by. As the light began to darken. Little lights from various buildings continued to turn on, some in unison, others without pattern. Being up that high and looking out into the horizon gives such a wonderful sense of peace, such a calming feeling. I didn't want to leave, and I felt the importance of finding a new place in which I again have a cozy balcony to look out from that helps me reflect and observe, as I love to do.
Before taking the video, I shot these images for the same reason, to reflect and hold memories of the place. To hold appreciation for it and to remember the first part of Armenia I came to.
I looked down at the weirdest mall I had every put eyes on: a mall dedicated to car parts. Garage Mall, it calls itself. And people came in and out purely for the supermarket which was found at the bottom floor. I remembered the cold evenings and running to it whenever I ran out of food, whenever I felt a bit bored of being inside and wanted to change up the scenery with a bit of time spent in the food court. The cozy feeling it held inside when roaming through various new products that revealed a world totally different to my own. Buying 2KG of coffee grounds by accident having assumed I was getting two small bags of about 200 grams. Purely because my Armenian and Russian skills were (and still are) terrible. I realise such adventures are to repeat again within Georgia as I approach Tbilisi. It's exciting to relive it all, to again discover everything and have a new place to roam, but that bittersweet feeling of leaving Armenia is felt. In a way it really did become home, more so than England does now. I feel more nostalgia for these areas than my countryside home full of green and (now) overdevelopment. But I do feel nomadic tendencies. I do feel that I want to feel that lost feeling again, to roam unknown streets and photograph them. To feel lost under a language I don't understand. To browse items I had never seen before.
And the cracks of thunder continue to this moment as I type this. The storms I've grown to love, the heavy rains and the cold nights. I long for more of it, of different types. Under new environments. With the buildings and locations to roam through underneath it all. That's life to me, and the realisation of a single place starting to grow tiresome sends me forward. Armenia was never meant to be the final destination for me. I never intended to come here in the first place, and I never expected to spend almost a year here.
It's interesting how locations can shape how we think and feel. How we can hold nostalgia for the environment. How some can't let go of such places and continue to remain in them for the duration of their lives. Others, however, have that lingering curiosity to venture out and see what's beyond. I'm definitely the latter. The type to love a place, but still holding that interest to explore. To keep pushing beyond each place I visit. To question what's on the other side of that treeline, that mountain, beyond those buildings. And to look into the stars even and question what's beyond those. I'm a naturally curious person and I think ultimately that leads to an ability to connect with any place and find a reason to call it home, until that feeling returns as I recognise each road, building and place. I have been feeling that here for a while now. Not necessarily a boredom, but a familiarity with everything around. I haven't yet explored everything here, in fact I barely scratched the surface, but I know there's other times to come and do so. That there's always another time. And that there are other places to run around and discover at the same time. It doesn't need to be done in such a linear fashion, and that's okay. If anything, I prefer it that way, to feel that freedom. To know that there's no rule to go by.
These definitely won't be the last of Armenia that I share though. I'll be here for what I assume is another week at least. And that'll be a week filled with some final shots of different areas, some last explorations and cozy cafe visits.
But I know that if I return to Armenia for an extended period of time, this is the area I'll choose to live in, the one area I feel nostalgia and connection with.
