Fifth Journey Day 84: The Boy and the Bottle

Date: July 31, 2025
Location: Panjakent, Tajikistan

This afternoon, I walked along the Zeravshan River. The sun was high in the sky, but its heat wasn't too intense. It felt like the warmth was suspended in the air rather than feeling hot on my skin. The river was wide and slow. It was a dusty green color, with small areas of stillness near the banks where the water barely moved. On one side, houses were surrounded by low fences. On the other side, there was open land with scattered orchards and fields that were yellow with summer. I passed a boy sitting on the ground next to the water, playing with a plastic bottle in the water. He didn't look up.

There was a moment where the path went under a group of trees — I think they were poplars. The wind blew past with a sound like distant applause. I sat on a flat stone for a while and let the light filter through the branches. The leaves shimmered, constantly turning. I didn't feel like sketching. I just watched it.

I thought about the dried mulberries I bought yesterday. They crumble in the mouth — first dry, then sticky. I thought about the woman who put them into the paper bag with a metal scoop, her hands moving quickly, her face unreadable.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm moving too slowly. But then I notice something like the way dust rises in the air before settling back down, and I feel more stable again. Being here doesn't feel like being in a place. It feels more like being inside a pause. He's not waiting; he's resting.

I didn't say much today. The guesthouse owner just needs to hear a few words in the morning. That was all she needed. My mind feels calm, like the river — not completely still, but not trying to be anywhere else either.