The Word Cloud

As the plane approached its final destination everything changed. Through the window I could see the city of Liverpool growing larger as we drew nearer; the area seemed to have a grey veil draped over it in preparation for our arrival.

The cityscape, once a sight which had impressed and captivated my mind now resembled a dull sludge; a sigh independently escaped my lips. I didn't mind, it was fitting. I was unhappy to arrive home. Pining for the humbleness of Kurgan and the warming buzz of Tyumen, my own city wasn't even half as welcoming.

As we landed in Liverpool Airport it was as if we were being lowered into a great vat of melancholic acid. The city seemed to have taken the form of an energy vampire as the plane rolled along the runway. With a light, final bump we came to a complete stop. The doors opened and everything seemed so final, as though the past two weeks had been forced into remaining a mere memory . . . but I'll always have them, my memories.

Thankfully Elena Lonchavoka accompanied us for the whole trip, one of the most snap-happy and talented photographers I've ever had the pleasure of coming across, and now we've got over a thousand images to reflect upon.

In Tyumen we spent a day at a children's camp; the happy faces and sheer joy for life they seemed to all possess will be the only things keeping me going until I can spread my wings once more.

 

"It was too good to last, he thought. Might as well have been a dream, he thought."