Fifth Journey Day 55: The Object He Rolled
Date: July 2, 2025
Location: Lviv, Ukraine
When I arrived in Lviv, I felt a sense of ease and calmness — a shift from feeling excited to being in the moment. After dropping off my bag, I let my body lead me into the Armenian quarter, not planning anything. The streets there feel a bit off, like they were built with memory rather than symmetry. The walls lean inward, and the windows look different. There's a soothing sense of disorder that I find comforting.
I wandered without a plan. A child's chalk drawing stretched across one step. It was uneven, with stars and a red sun. There were swirls of pigeons that rose not in panic, but in synchronized hesitation. I walked past an open door and saw a man sitting alone inside, slowly turning a small object in his fingers. I couldn't tell what it was. I couldn't stop thinking about it.
The air was cooler in the alleys. Somewhere behind a wooden gate that was half-broken, someone was playing a string instrument. It wasn't polished or performed for an audience; it was just there. The sound mixed with the noise of heels on uneven stone and the sudden, bright laugh of someone rounding a corner.
I didn't take any notes. I just looked. I let the weight of the past stay in the buildings and not press down on me. The city doesn't need to be explained — it just reveals itself to those who look closely. I felt strangely free.
I'm back in my room now, and I've set up the pigments, but I haven't touched them yet. I'm letting the impressions settle into my mind. Maybe they'll become something you can see tomorrow. For now, I just want to hold the day as it was — not perfect, but still good.
