Fifth Journey Day 87: Fan of One Step

Date: August 3, 2025
Location: Khiva, Uzbekistan

Today began inside a wall. I hadn't expected the sensation to be so immediate. It felt like being folded into a different time when I crossed through the gates of Itchan Kala. The city is built low and close to the ground, but it doesn't feel cramped. Instead, there's a space between things: between carved doors, domed ceilings, and wooden beams that have darkened over time. I walked slowly, letting the heat decide how fast I went.

I stopped at the Juma Mosque. The doorway was quiet and almost unnoticeable, but inside, a forest of wooden columns stood calmly, each one slightly different and carved with its own unique rhythm. The light came through the roof slats above, angled and soft, and fell in patches on the stone floor. I sat on a cool, flat rock by the edge of the water and listened. I didn't listen for sound, though. I listened for the texture of stillness. A boy walked past with a paper fan. His footsteps echoed once, then disappeared.

I didn't take any notes. It felt more natural to observe without using form. Instead, I kept my hands still and watched how light moved across the wood — how it caught the worn notches, how some columns leaned slightly, just enough to show their age. It made me think of my own work. I often try to capture movement or mood, but what I really want to capture is time passing slowly.

Later, I watched the city become dark. I was on a low terrace. The wind blew again, just enough to lift the edge of my sleeve. Cats moved quietly along the alleys below, going in and out of shadow. I didn't do much today, at least not in the traditional sense. But I stopped and let myself feel where I am.

There's still dust on my shoes. I'll stop there for now.