A piece of primitive, wild Africa. Men with Kalashnikovs driving herds of cattle along red-dirt paths to the banks of the river. Processions of women walking to the Omo River, returning with huge gourds filled with water balanced on their heads.
Somewhere in Russia, Village First of May Cold wind, mud, ice. The land is covered with silence in “Piervo Maiscki” village (First of May), a remote village in Northern Russia, far thousand kilometers from Moscow.
Armenia was for me a real discover, with its oen wounds and its history, its bittersweet land, its proud, open and vital people. I felt as if Armenia asked me to go back many times, I traveled the whole country, walked around, met people who were willing to share their stories.