Cats rule in street art, cats they are everywhere. I think the artist loves the cats and this is the way he shows his love.
I adore even the most abandoned and forgotten places of this town. The entire Borjomi Gorge reminds me of a beautiful flower, which is to blossom soon, but suddenly, one of the creepy local dogs will reach her, pee on it and cause it to wither; so it repeats the next year and then the same every year after that.
The snowy town looks like the paintings of Elene Akhvlediani, with images frozen on canvas and the sounds of some slow heart beats beyond.
People walk like zombies, unwillingly following their everyday routine. It seems that Borjomi Park also stops breathing in winter and only visitors are happy with taking selfies and laughing around shut down carousels, cafes and the cable car.
There is one beautiful house in the centre of Borjomi which looks exactly like Kevin's house in the movie "Home Alone". The only difference is that it looks like some fresh greens were shoved into the mouth of a dead piglet, lying roasted on a New Year's table.
The town is the a "'cemetery" ' of old houses, whether they are abandoned or not.
Beautiful, glassy houses, shaped in different colours and forms, like Lego, are spread over the mountain, creating natural stairs which tightly holding each other, not even leaving an inch in between.
The yards prove that people do not live here, but just exist.Things are scattered around the yard -, bowls, brooms, firewood, old furniture, full of old, unnecessary things, all swimming in chaos. I am standing there and thinking, how beauty gets lost.
One house caught my eye, with its green glassy facade and red curtains. When I visited again, the glassy facade was faced up with two new plastic windows. You cannot judge them. The glassy facade cannot keep the house warm. As for the yard, it lost its beauty and authenticity. You cannot speak about authenticity with a hungry man.
The saddest thing in the town is the tailor's shop. I walked by the shop on the same day and hour in different years. There was no difference, as if time was frozen. Imagine how the hour hand of some old clock gets stuck with the minute hand, keeping it motionless - that is how time looks here.
Everything is the same, starting from the New Year decorations on the window including the sweater and hairstyle of the tailor woman. It was the last place where I saw a still-working rotary dial telephone.
Who will dare to think that there is one year or even one hour difference between these two photos?