Raion

It smells like an old courtyard - cigarettes at the kiosk, an empty stadium, and voices that gather together less and less often. Time seems to pass faster here: Monday blinks and immediately turns into Sunday, and familiar faces gradually migrate from the courtyards to the queues at the clinic. Some have left, some have returned, some have packed their bags again - and each time there is a feeling that the neighbourhood is becoming a little quieter. But in this half-empty air, a simple truth still rings true: wherever you are, home is never erased from your memory.