Fall (November’25)

A walk down Bolshaya Almatinka, or The Big Almaty River.

It was late fall and the eve of winter, and the river channels, which feed from glacial melt from the mountains, were dry and sparse with an idle flow of life.

We had the first snow the year a few days prior, which took away with it some shade of the fall colours, leaving streaks of white snow, a thick haze in the air.

As the path led to the Sayran Reservoir the flow picked up, both of the water and well as of the bustle, but only slightly.

The reservoir was beginning to freeze, and it already had a patina of ice.

The surrounding complexes were of a post Soviet flavour with their construction and colors.

From the foliage of trees and concrete, a singular glint of gold came shining through.

With the ghosts of the mountains looking over us . . .

. . . as the sun got ready to set.

The sun, the dusk and the haze of smoke painted the sky with golden brushstrokes . . .

. . . as Alma-Ata comes out to admire and immerse in the amber haze, before calling it a day.