Here you find a collection of photos very simply illustrating what made me appreciate life, what made me discover true love and live it fully on a daily basis. This series could have been a documentary on this village, yet I feel my senses and emotions are too attached to them, loosing all objectivity and balance. Since this trip I have never believed I could take documentary photographs for the sole reason that I find myself in every one of my pictures. The category chosen is hence therefore nothing but a formality.
I've discovered life in a small Turkish village in the east of the Republic of Georgia during a trip my dad took during his last days as Batumi's Turkish Consul. I've only been there once and I doubt anything else really has marked me as much.
The village is composed by Turks, sent to live in Kirghistan and Kazakhstan during Stalin's reign. Only the youngins who went to school in Georgia know Georgian. Otherwise only Turkish is spoken in the village. They came back one generation later in the 1980s and have been living in the same village ever.
It's a small village, very small. Not more than 100 people live in it. The elder's 80 years old and the youngest is approximately 3. No one has left the village and few have traveled more than the biggest city 15kms from the village, Ozurgheti, a marvelous relic of old Soviet times, where the Georgian Pink Revolution and its colored balconies haven't reached yet.
They have water and electricity problems and are usually shunned from the neighboring societies.
But someone said that their family was enough for them.
They have very few things to offer but they're ready to give away their life for the next person who smiles at them.