Ну вот. Наконец продолжение темы, которое все никак не получалось осуществить.
http://www.themilk.com.ua/nonoise.htmlЭто фотки из Припяти, которые я привез из поездки с товарищем. Недавно он спросил захочу ли я туда снова поехать весной... А я опешил... И не знал что ответить. Потому-что не знал хочу ли я. До сих пор странные чувства по отношению к этому, сейчас удивительному городу. Не понимаю, то ли был там, то ли нет. Вот сегодня вспомнил кусок из какого-то из произведений Стругацких, кажется "Волны гасят ветер", кусок, где герой с собакой идут в скафандрах по заброшенному городу на другой планете, и прислушиваются к отсутствию шума. А вот что написал товарищ: I think that I understand what you mean. Since I have returned people always ask me what it was like to visit Chernobyl and Pripyat, and it has been very difficult to describe. Oleg asked me if I would write some thoughts about my visit for the 4th Block website, and this is what I said:
"As a foreigner traveling to Ukraine, it's difficult to speak about Chernobyl with any true objectivity. To most -- and perhaps more so to those of us on the opposite side of the old Iron Curtain -- Chernobyl is as much modern-day folklore as it is a reality: a tragedy so ingrained into the language our global culture as to have become a narrative much larger than itself -- a status which perhaps it rightfully deserves. It has transcended being just an event or a place; it is an anti-monument to the crushing overconfidence of the 20th-century’s industrial hopes and ambitions.
In person, there are no words to adequately describe the complexity of Chernobyl. Now almost 30 years after the tragedy, the sensationalism of the event is easily forgotten amongst the serene beauty of the region. Where one would expect desecration, instead one finds vast forests full of wildlife, occasionally punctuated by industrial relics of an era now abandoned.
Walking through Pripyat -- a ghost-city less than three kilometers away from the plant -- I am captured by the absence of noise. I am careful not to use the word "silence" in this context; silence is what one encounters where one would expect to find it. In Pripyat, as with any other city of its size, one would expect to hear the ambience of everyday life: cars, conversations, work and play. Now there are only empty streets, abandoned stores and vacant homes, all blanketed in a silence so thick as to be impossible to ignore. Nature is now reclaiming the property it once owned, making Pripyat a site of tragic beauty both surreal and ironic, difficult to define as anything other than what it is at face value, yet pregnant with implication and history."
I think about those two days we visited Chernobyl every day; even now it is difficult for me to believe that I was actually there in person. In many ways I feel that it was irresponsible for me to take just a few photographs and think that I would be able to make a book, but I will do the best that I can!
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