The Zone is blue. I see this colour everywhere, in schools, kindergartens, hospital, Jupiter, in Pripyat’s modern flats and old wooden houses crumbling apart in some forgotten, remote villages. It is imprinted deeply in my mind, like the smell of fresh bread from the same bakery I would walk past every day, or the song I’ve heard so many times I can tell by just one note what’s playing. I feel like Pavlov’s dog but reacting to the colour instead of bell. I feel like I could walk all the way to the Zone just to catch a glimpse of it through a distant broken window.
I was awed when I walked in to the Pripyat’s dentist, which must be one of the bluest of them all. Sitting comfortably at home some weeks later, listening to my favourite album and uploading these photos I can still feel the light breeze that morning. The Zone is calling…
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