Imagine… opening a map, seeing lines, dots, areas, silhouettes … but only blurry can we imagine what does this all actually mean, at the moment they are just symbols, sketches on the map and in your mind. And all those brands suddenly start coming to life in all their dimensions and meanings the moment you decide to take a first step, bounce back… and just fly away. Lines materialize into roads, greenery into forests, brown areas turn into mountains and squares into real houses. But what is not evident in the sketches or maps are locals. People projecting into a landscape, shaping and transforming it. And a landscape that is mirrored in human everydayness and imprints itself into people’s lives. And in these worlds you are finding yourself…

And it doesn’t always have to be those worlds in vast distances, the beauty and magic of discovery awaits you nearby, perhaps even on your own porch. Just to watch, to sharpen the senses, to awaken the observer within yourself. And to capture, with a viewfinder or your eye, the moments in their dynamics and statics as they suddenly come… and a moment later disappear again, they fill in general transience.. Perceive authenticity, imperfection, diversity. And it is within that diversity that true beauty appears, in all its variety and complexity. After all, despite the huge diversity, we have more in common than we might think. We live in a small world where big stories take place… and we are all under the same sky.

„Time flies slowly and that’s fine. It’s just good to have time… And as long as you have enough, if you’re in no hurry, the scale of time is really irrelevant.“

– notes from Kyrgyzstan, just a thought without context. The beginning of a freezing winter
– photo captured on the Slovenian coast, near the town of Koper. A late autumn, a long time ago

„Birds, black crows, whose deafening noise could be heard even long after the dark fell. Dogs are shy here and do not approach you. Kids will sometimes say their „Hello!“ And many of them will just overlook you. You are not invisible though.“

– notes from the town of Taktogul, Kyrgyzstan. October

– pictured in Chiatura city in Georgia, one autumn evenfall. I can only remember a feeling of anxiety inside

One day, a rusty cabin car will not come to take local men up to their homes, like thousands of days before. Instead, a ski-lift may appear and take you up the hill, to have some fun.

– Georgia, the city of Chiatura – a world source of manganese, whose fame was covered by the shadow of gray and oblivion. Stalin´s cable cars still transport people to work, to the shops, to schools, down to mines. Since seventy years… It was the beginning of fall – a season which suits Chiatura the best

,,We are all under the same sky”. My friend told me once.

– winter Isfahan, Iran… and elsewhere. Then and now

„If you do things you love, you are free, that´s your freedom.“ Shayan told me once. Oppressive regime has confiscated his recording studio and imprisoned him for six months. But a free spirit can´t be captured…

– hitchhiking by the shore of the Gulf of Oman in southern Iran, with a random old local man, who had nothing but a bottle of water with him. He got out in the middle of a dry nowhere and started to walk just straight, somewhere across a sand dune. And with Shayan, who showed me what inner freedom means. It was unbearably hot, it was January

,,Do not talk to strangers.” We heard from older and wiser relatives, probably because they worried about us. And now? Have we become older ourselves…and wiser? “It was so easy to talk to strangers, people you didn´t know. It was so easy to confide, to open up, to listen, to share… You are not afraid, for example, of being judged.. and if you are, it won’t hurt you.” What would happen if we learn to ignore this old advice about not talking to strangers and break the mutual silence? Aren’t we wiser already?

– Hormoz island, the building of a primary school, which possibly has ceased already. Evenfall time, the pleasant vanishing vibrations of the sultry summer day of the month of Bahman can be felt in the air

Woman knitting socks in the yard of her house. Mosque calling for a pray. A town covered in mist, which hypnotizes.

– The village of Masoulleh, northern Iran. Autumn?

Sophisticated system of interconnected roofs – sidewalks. Your yard is the roof of your neighbour and the sidewalk for all your non-neighbors and mostly local tourists. While having an evening tea and soup, I meet Simin and her family. We speak basic English about basic things. Then she writes to my diary: „I like you and I will be happy to meet you in my house. Kiss kiss. Simin.“ And a phone number. Dated 29.9.2018

– village of Masouleh, northern Iran

„And yesterday, when she took one final step up and at that moment, stunning, colorful panoramas of the canyon were revealed to her, until she believed that the image was real, an urgent need to scream appeared inside of her. Just yell. Again. A pure joy of being alive. Being here and now. Alone. Only silently flying birds around, all you can hear is just a sharp soud of their wings fluttering as they fly over your head close enough. And you intensively feel the freedom. These birds have it, and so do you.“

– notes from The Fairy Tale canyon by Issyk – Kul lake, Kyrgyzstan. It was late October, but it felt like September

– photo captured in Kurdistan, on the Iran – Iraq border, one rainy autumn day. Raw and hospitable surroundings… breathtaking. Similar feelings – sudden and strong tremors of joy and energy, when you feel you can´t really tame it – and it is definitely not what you want to do – are following you across the places and at some point they come to the surface. Sometimes you shout out loud, other times just suffocated, secretly. Here the birds are also free… and people…?

„How long can you watch the Moon? Just sit motionless and stare at the sky? I do not know. But if you look closely enough, you can see him moving.”

– notes written one night in the walnut grove around the village of Arslanbob, Kyrgyzstan. October, autumn bloom

– photography made in Hormuz, the island of salt and ubiquitous light. Persian Gulf, Iran. December. Eternity

„Stop.” Remember? The previous diary… ,,But where?” How many floors do we have to climb to finally get a feeling that it’s the right time to stop?

– notes from the warm room of the Kyrgyzs house of one family, a part of which I have become for a while. How long is a while? It is relative. Winter, the end of the year.

– photographed in another house in Pilsen, which temporarily replaced my home. Summer, that crazy and reckless summer

Just a part of a year they can live here, up the Georgian mountains, until their wooden house is covered in snow. Down in the city they have 30 grandchildren, here they take care of few cows, chickens. He is 87, his 84 years old wife with shaking hands was making cheese inside the tiny house. We were eating homemade cream, bread, cheese, beans and drinking chacha. He was telling stories…

– mountain village Gomismta – Adjara region, Georgia. July, warm summer… capricious summer

Who defines the borders, who draws these lines? Many of them we create and strenghten in our minds just by ourselves. While for kids they often do not exist.

– North-eastern Turkey. June

Dance is energy, dance is spontaneity and order. A mutual understanding without words, that´s dance.

– Përmet, Albania. It was an early evening of June

Having time, sitting outside, observing the street, talking … or just being silent. Afternoon men´s siesta.

– Berat, Albania. June and it´s still, heavy air

„…and again, so much goodness and humanity. You can feel a slight, melancholy sorrow. But also energy. All this had its meaning and it has brought something… and this something you are taking away with you, the part of Tajikistan in yourself. You carry it over to your regions… The city of Murghab is covered in darkness, all you can hear is barking of dogs…”

– Murghab, 3 600 m above sea level, Pamir mountain range, Tajikistan. October

„…and today she is saying goodbye to Tajikistan. A place where people, besides greetings, also ask you about your mood and health and you can feel a huge piece of sincerity and interest in it. She is saying goodbye to Pamir, a place of black crows and magpies, to the autumn Pamir, where people pick potatoes on fields and lead their cattle back home before the sunset. The city of Murghab is covered in darkness, all you can hear is barking of dogs that are not behind fences. Stars are shining, the Moon is in its place, illuminating the silhouettes of the mountains. Freezing. Peace.”

– Murghab, 3 600 m above sea level, Pamir mountain range, Tajikistan. October, a freezing mountain wind was blowing

Father. The oldest and the most respected person of an eight member family. According to tradition, one son always stays living in his family house with his parents and his wife follows him after the wedding. „Sister Olga is a name she hears quite often now. n the family, they tell the children to call her this way. It’s half past eight in the evening. All the family except for the sleeping grandpa, is in the living room, the entire lengh of which is covered by matraces – beds for the female part of the family, the men sleep separately. Two of the girls are doing homework on the ground, the youngest five-year-old son is playing by himself with his toy cars, news is running on TV. Mum is writing some notes, dad just made sure the kids have enought apples a while ago. Sister Olga cut them. The atmosphere is calm and kind, winter is approaching slowly…”

– Borbash village, Kyrgyzstan. An early December

„Shouting „Hello!“ and running towards you, curious, enquiring. „I am Messi! And me Ronaldo! How are you?“ They know who Peter Čech is. Football is a big deal, anywhere. Children, their spontaneity, openess, joy, laughter. Little warriors, heroes of their own stories.. across borders.

– notes from autumn in Fann mountains in Tajikistan, where all the villages were full of children

– the photo captured at the city walls of Bukhara, Uzbekistan. It was autumn and stuffy like a hot summer

A former caravanserai on the Silk Road. Tiny handicraft shops, tea house, photo gallery – spaces for artists, spaces with artists. The place where private sphere merges with the public one. The place where the life is.

– Bukhara, Uzbekistan. Stuffy September

„…these birds were trapped in the mountains, at the age when they could fly already. Into nets and cages. Supposedly it is good for them. Supposedly they do not suffer for the lack of food. And that freedom? Stolen and lost forever. What about the birds, what would they have been chosen?

– notes from the Issyk – Kul lake, Kyrgyzstan. Sunny October

– picture taken in Prague, from Charles bridge, at the time of covid lockdown. In spring, when it all has started…

In the Muslim world of Central Asia you are a foreigner, but not an enemy. Dialog is an element that brings people together. Anytime, anywhere.. for instance while drinking tea in a mosque.

– the city of Samarkand, Uzbekistan. September