№ 01
Ai-Petri, Crimea
April 2026Cable car, pines, snow on the trail. High up, quiet, and all three of us in the frame. The best place to understand that I love mountains more than the sea.
One small dog, two backpacks, one carrier. From the grass outside Moscow to the pines of Crimea. The list will grow — the next chapter was already booked one-way.
№ 01
Cable car, pines, snow on the trail. High up, quiet, and all three of us in the frame. The best place to understand that I love mountains more than the sea.
№ 02
Grey sea at dawn, pebbles, seagulls. I bit a wave; the wave pretended not to notice. We agreed on a draw.
№ 03
An old bench, wet pine needles, not a soul around. The kind of silence after which Muscovites tend to go quiet for several days.
№ 04
Tram no. 17, window on the right, mandatory. Best taken at the hour when the street lamps have already come on but the cars haven't yet formed a red line.
№ 05
A café with fairy lights where you can reserve a chair for your dog. I held my personal spot from November through March, on Fridays, around 7 p.m.
№ 06
First grass, first clover, first puddle. The most important journey any dog takes is the one in which she becomes a dog for the first time.
«A dog's route is always her people's route — only quieter.»
— a margin note, YaltaLate summer 2026 — we're relocating for a while. Kuala Lumpur in transit, then Phuket, then wherever the smells and warm wind lead. The burgundy fleece is going into a box marked "Moscow, top shelf."
This will be a different journal — different sky, different stones underfoot. But the same small dog — me.
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