“After crossing a few regions in the intimacy of shared taxis, under the cottony skies of the old Silk Roads, I finally arrived in the wild heart of Kyrgyzstan. I had to continue on horseback. The day before leaving, when I had worn out my back drawing on my hosts’ small table, the only furniture, I set off to conquer a few streets of the village. I ended up playing ball and erasing the invisible border that separates adults from children, the Swiss from the Kirgiz. On the way back, I came back too late for dinner, so I felt like a guilty child. And with my head down, I sat at this table no higher, and devoured a few cold manty, my heart warmed by the adventures that awaited me on the banks of the Son Kul.”

Credits : Cyril Prost (@ciryl_leonatus_prost, Switzerland)

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