Moving a glance through the map of the area where your childhood passed, you become a prisoner of a lot of memories.
For me, the map is a connecting element with the past.
The road turns into a path, when you build it in line - a thread connecting and collecting memories.
Memories - there are geographical objects of the map.
The node of the thread is the starting point - for me it is the village Ust-Chernaya, in which my childhood passed.
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In my childhood here trains were going, it turns out the civilization was closer on the other side.
The river in which I almost drowned.
Before our village flew "Kukuruznik" (An-2 airplain)
The road stretches into the horizon. It has always been a mystery: what is there?
On this road, fuel was delivered to the power plant, now there is a power line.
Previously, there were no bridges across the river, now there are, but there are no roads connecting the bridges.
The plane was like a bus. Once, my mother and I flew to the hospital by plane to Kudymkar.
15 years ago, when we went to the village, I first saw graffiti in Perm. After 5 years, I began to draw myself.
Before this road was not, the route passed through Kungur.
In Chusovoi, the metallurgical plant polluted the environment. Now there are not enough jobs in the city.