Fifth Journey Day 89: The Not-Drawing

Date: August 5, 2025
Location: Tashkent, Uzbekistan

I moved through Tashkent as if I were walking on glass. The heat pressed down but didn't feel overwhelming. Instead, it settled into the stones and concrete, radiating gently upward. My shirt was a little tight in the back, but the color of the trees was nice. The leaves were thin and sunlight was filtered through them like a latticework.

I spent most of the afternoon at the Museum of Applied Arts. The entrance was quiet and almost hesitant. The air inside cooled off right away. It was thick, smelled slightly of varnish and plaster, and felt a bit sticky. Each room had wood carvings, ikat silks, ceramics in peacock and ash, indigo and brick. Everything was designed in a way that made it seem calm and controlled. The ceilings were painted with geometric flowers that looked heavy yet airy.

I stood in front of a pair of carved doors for a long time. The wood's grain curved slightly against the pattern, and I thought about how often the carver adjusted their hand to follow the natural shape of the wood. I sketched a section of the border, but I stopped halfway. It didn't need to be captured. The fact that he didn't draw also mattered.

Later, I walked back through a side street. There was a blue gate that had been welded shut, with weeds growing underneath it. A child was sitting on the steps nearby, eating a plum. I didn't draw her either.

I feel a kind of calm inside me tonight. It's not total silence; it's more like a slow buildup. The rhythm of the city is different from the desert cities; it feels more structured somehow. Here, even beauty seems to follow rules. But be gentle. It's as if you trust that your eyes will spot it without you having to point it out.

Tomorrow I might look for something less symmetrical. Or maybe I won't.