The Journey Begins
Photos: Cevahir Buğu - Text: Zeynep İyigün
Train is the head of this story. The shining train in red color bears the weight of the past. The Russian conductors I’m used to seeing from the movies are waiting for passengers in their official uniforms in front of the train doors. Young, old, children; all start boarding on the train with their luggages on hand.
I started my journey late at night and as I was touring the city all day, I wanted to get my bed ready and go to sleep. But it was such a sleep that the sound of the train in my ear, the mist of cold air in the glass, and a dim light... I wake up and watch the outside, we go through the small villages that follow the roadway of the land under the snow. Some hide behind dense forests and do not reveal themselves, some probably not more than 100 inhabitants continue their commune life away from the entire world. While the train continues to run after the night, the chatter is not done, it only continues in silence. Those who cannot sleep spend their journey enjoying the view accompanied by tea-seeds or Russian national drink vodka.
In the morning, the search between the wagons and seeing each wagon look like each other creates a completely different connotation in mind. It’s like that’s life, but we’ve been out there chasing different goals and forgetting about our self. It’s as if we were always living here with every nation, but our bodies are scattered all over the world... as if we were all the same, but separated by our surrogates and languages. (...)