Through a veil of clouds, that chained the streets of the city in an insufferable fug, last beams of the disappearing sun were visible. A fiery red circle was hiding behind the mountain’s...
A virtual route of creative and cultural exchange
Places
Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan
Contributors: Jamby Dzhusubalieva, Azamat Omuraliev (BTL)
« The city must never be confused with the words that describe it. And yet between the one and the other there is a connection. » —Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
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I grew up in the Soviet Union. In one of the “southern” Central Asian parts, in the most wildly beautiful country, the Kyrgyz Republic, among a people with an ancient, not to say archaic life history/biography, in... media_text
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I have lived almost all my life in Kyrgyzstan, a small former Soviet country, which gained independency only 25 years ago. Even though the sovereign country’s history is extremely short,... media_text
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The landscape of the Kyrgyz so-called written literature (in comparison with the-still existing oral tradition in poetry and epic genres) - of the late 1920s and early 1930s is a scene of dull and engaged writings.... media_text
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It was in a remote village in the Kyrgyz Pamir Mountains. I remember vividly the beauty of that night. It was a beautiful night with a bright and generous moon. The firmament of stars suspended so low. In the bright... media_text
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In the park Monceau birds are singing. Endlessly. In the park Monceau …. The media_text
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My old lady lives by Garden Luxemburg, media_text
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I grew up in the Soviet Union. In one of the “southern” Central Asian parts, in the most wildly beautiful country, the Kyrgyz Republic, among a people with an ancient, not to say archaic life history/biography, in... media_text
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“Djailoo” in traditional Kyrgyz culture is a fundamental concept, embodying the summer pasture and grazing, where every year during warm period Kyrgyz nomads move their families and yurt homes. “Djailoo” occurs not... media_text
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‘You could write a story about this,’ she said. A long hallway stretched for dozens of meters. Darkness didn’t let the signs on numerous doors be read, didn’t let the dust on the bookshelves be distinctly seen... media_text
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Morning I can’t believe the evening ever comes, media_text
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