The Quiet Life

An elderly Armenian woman walks slowly and alone through this grand and empty Soviet-era bus station―an eerily emblematic scene of modern-day Armenia.

Today, 30 years after the demise of the USSR, the modernist Soviet-era architecture still defines the landscapes of most Armenian cities―geometric, utilitarian structures that stand like monuments to the populations meant to inhabit them.

But after 70 years of Soviet rule following the Armenian genocide of World War 1, there are now fewer than 3 million Armenians living in their homeland, over a million of whom live in the nation’s capital, Yerevan. In other cities and towns throughout the country, like the city of Vanadzor where this photograph is taken, the population is half of what it was in 1976 when the construction of this bus station was completed.

Today there are over 11 million Armenians living world-wide. Less than a quarter of them live inside their homeland.

Second only to its cuisine, Gaziantep is also known for its world-renowned coppersmiths who continue the city’s long tradition of prolific and expert copper craftsmanship.

The streets of the copper market are lined with dozens of small workshops where craftsman forge and shape and hammer out new copperware from dawn to dusk. Except for this man. He has been at it his whole life and his shop is filled to the brim with all the inventory he will ever need. Now, each morning when he arrives at work, he simply sets up a small display of his favourite items, and then spends the rest of the day enjoying the luxury of his inconspicuous semi-retirement. For some reason, these days, he also takes his tea and coffee just a little bit sweeter.

The small Azerbaijani city of Quba rests comfortably to the east of the Caucasus mountains, sitting right at their base, right where they begin to unwind and settle down to the shores of the Caspian Sea. Within the city of Quba itself, and resting just as comfortably, this man is enjoying his own moment of peace, unwinding like the mountains around him, taking every in and nothing for granted.

The quiet life still exists here in Bangladesh, and you don’t have to go far outside the major cities to find it. While the country has been booming with development for the past decade, most of the small villages and rural districts have been left virtually untouched. The village of Shulpur is one of them, resting comfortably on the other side of the Rupsa River just outside the city of Khulna.

But change is coming. For better or for worse and probably for both. Change is coming and it will come here. When it does, for the people who regularly visit this take-a-load-off-your-feet-and-stay-a-while tea stand, it will probably break their hearts.

This couple runs a small business together selling fresh vegetables on a quiet neighbourhood street in the south-western part of Dhaka city. When not in school, their children play safely nearby with all the other kids in the area. Business is good, the children are happy, and this simple life might actually be as beautiful as it seems.

For these two friends, this perfect spot on the sidewalk is like their second living room. The floor is kept cleaner than anywhere else on the street, and the unspoken rule is “no shoes on the sofa.”

These two men live in the old part of Belgrade and have been walking together all morning. The road they’re on follows the Sava River as it flows into the Danube. At any given point along the way there is seemingly no end in sight to either the road they’re on or the conversation they’re having. It’s as though their morning walk began years ago when they were young and continues to flow through their lives like water.

This woman’s family home rests on the edge of a cliff, halfway up a mountainside, overlooking the south end of Hakkâri city. Her home is built from stone blocks and sheets of corrugated tin, and the roof is made of log beams that are covered with just about everything that could work as a roof.

She knows full well that this is far from being the nicest neighbourhood in the city, but every afternoon, when the shade lands right about here and she has time to sit in the backyard to reflect on where she actually is in this world, she can’t seem to think of one good reason for wanting to be anywhere else.

This young mother and her three children are standing just inside the entranceway of a large, limestone cave on the hillside in the outskirts of the city of Sanliurfa. Behind the iron gate where a lone cow stands in the background, are the other 44 cows of the herd, huddled comfortably and cool in the darkness.

The family home is built into the hillside and just to the right of the cave’s entrance, her husband stands to the left, just outside the frame of this photograph. The hillsides of Sanliurfa are home to dozens of cattle rancher families, just like this one who occupy the caves left behind by a combination of natural occurrence and limestone excavation. The surrounding terrain is otherwise rocky and rugged, but the caves themselves are like an oasis, cool comfort for the cattle when they are not on the hillsides grazing.

This road-side grocery store sits on top of a hill just outside the small Macedonian town of Trepjca. It is the larger of the two stores that serves the town’s population of 300 people, and is also a coffee shop, bakery, bar, and bus station.

This is lunch time. The store will stay closed for another two hours; the next bus will not arrive until late afternoon; and the autumn breeze is resting quietly on the otherwise vacant plastic crates, seeing no reason to cause a stir.

This fine man runs a small appliance repair shop just off the main street in Sheki. His shop is a stand-alone booth built right by the sidewalk, and when the sun begins to set, his work-light shines bright enough to make the whole shop glow, lighting the way for everyone walking home in the darkness of night.

Truth is, he doesn’t really have enough repair work to keep him here this late, but along with being a good at repairs, he has begun to feel a little like the town’s lighthouse keeper and, over time, staying late to help guide the way has just kind of become part of the job.