A sickly nightwalk through the old Armenian Khrushchevkas

I haven't been out properly in a while, but this evening we ran off to a cafe to spend a few hours. I felt a bit better today, but I still massively overestimated my energy. Once at the cafe, I felt hot, I felt uncomfortable, and I felt like I could just go to sleep. The latte didn't help much, and given how much I was fidgeting, I felt I'd get some fresh air. Though that turned into a feverish stumble through the Arabkir streets as the sun began to set and turned into early night. I haven't had a little nightwalk in a while, but I loved this. I was reminded of what made me fall in love with Armenia in the first place. From the old 1950s cars and streetlights, to the hidden alleyways that are thriving with life from the locals, off the more beaten path of the main road.

Walking around the khrushchevkas, as the sunlight had already left, the sounds and signs of life remained. Old men sat in their decayed little gardens playing nardi or just hanging out with the neighbours they would've known for decades by now. Children playing behind the buildings. Little kittens running back and forth between the bushes. Such locations were too dark for the camera, but I had such an urge to return. The old motorway which bridged up and around a crossing had its own beauty to it. The sight of an old electric tram passed by with the sound of its current heard. A scene that would've been very common a few decades prior. Armenia is changing, but it still feels like you're roaming the past. It still feels like it's belonging to another era, one that refuses to disappear no matter how modern and chaotic our lives become.

This remaining visible from all corners. No matter where you move and where you look, you feel a sense of a quiet lifestyle. I walked by a building where a group of men played pool. An old concert hall with its main sign missing but its interior beautiful and mostly untouched. Mannequins left all over its flooring mixed with various set pieces and art. I wanted to go inside. But that previous encounter with the police here soured the adventurer mood a little. Instead, I pressed forward, deeper into the housing. Old residential spaces with old garages and many signs of Armenian culture. Mixed with the tired feeling of my current flu, it was like a fever dream. Each step felt drunken, like I had stepped into another realm but part of me remained within reality. I quite liked that, the feeling of being and not being. The higher emotional connection to what I discovered. The light had faded, my camera was already on a high ISO, and I just walked on without snapping more. Deeper down darker alleys, through old yards, wanting to find more. My body felt like shit, but my mind was roaming the fun of exploring again once I feel a bit better.