Georgia has been my personal goal since last summer: instigated me to wait in lines and get angry a lot to obtain a foreign passport. Crashing servers and long queues were turning my life into bureaucratic nightmare. Over and over again.
We have departed Russia in winter. The air border was blocked due to a political turmoil, so we had to set our way in through Vladikavkaz. We bought the cheapest plane tickets and packed up our bags with everything we needed; I pocketed three film rolls into my sweatshirt.
The entire way to the capital was like a dream. The sound of an engine in the white mist cocoon occasionally touched black silhouettes of cows grazing near the roadway and mongrels wandering along the shoulders.
We couldn’t fall asleep from tiredness that night.
This is a personal story amid landscapes of a new, unfamiliar country, neither a tourism handbook nor a travel blog article. I had only one task – to take pictures of whatever I want whether these are hackneyed views or a hostel bed. To let things fly before my eyes tired of Saint Petersburg’s yellow lights as well as of the streets made as though from wax.