Fifth Journey Day 79: Satellite in Bloom

Date: July 26, 2025
Location: Shymkent, Kazakhstan

I spent the morning slowly walking through a residential district just north of the main road. This area had a bunch of low-rise apartment blocks with faded facades, external staircases, and courtyards that showed their age. The buildings are simple but strangely intricate if you look closely. There were layers of paint over rust, satellite dishes grouped together like flowers that have lost their water, and plastic chairs left under small trees as if someone had just stood up.

One of the balconies had a green bedsheet tied to the railing with mismatched pegs. Another had three watermelons lined up in a row. I didn't take any photos at first. I kept my camera in my hand, waiting for the right time to take the picture. Eventually, I started noticing doorbells made from bits of wire and a child's drawing taped to the inside of a window. That's when I started taking pictures—not of the whole scene, but just some parts of it. Corners, shadows, and small arrangements that looked like they were there on purpose.

It was hot, but not too hot. I drank from a warm bottle of water and leaned against a wall where a vine had started to climb the bricks. A woman passed by with a pink scarf tied under her chin and a bag of cucumbers. We didn't say anything, but she nodded. I nodded back. That was all she needed.

This city doesn't seem to be trying to present itself in a certain way. It just keeps going. There's something comforting about that. I thought I might draw, but I was too emotional. I'll look at the photos later and decide what to keep.

I'm back at the guesthouse now. The fan is humming softly, and there's a small crack in the ceiling that curves like a line someone drew and then forgot. I like it here. I'll stay another day.