Private Life of Sukhum
Living somewhere long the person starts to perceive somehow the place as the continuation of himself - or himself as the central point of this space. Let’s say honestly, the sun rises as it is in our life! And the rain shower violates just our plans! We live in a tight unity with our town, village or region though we often do not account to it.
Every time passing any of Sukhum yards which is taken care by someone, I guess if the master or the mistress of this nice thing making beautiful some meters in front of the house, she or he, make an unique input into of Sokhumi’s atmosphere.
Last years the Sukhum residents start making order in the space around their houses – obviously the rehabilitation works at home finished and the remaining energy and money maybe spared for outside works.
But maybe I would like to believe this suggestion that gradually the sense at least of a small stability grew up, and people are fed up to see the ruins, garbage and all this scrubby state which accompanied our life long years after the war.
It is so pleasant to walk in the city and notice a recent detail - an original balcony above the just planted plant, a beautiful plate on the pavement, a carved wooden door, metallic fence through which you can see a flowerbed with a stony path leading to the bench on which someone spend while away evening hours.
At once one can feel that people lovingly arrange their place in which passes their life – their inner space not seen to the eye of an outsider which slightly is opening with the help of a rose bush or a stony hill, which is coming along the wall of ivy or standing out of pots with geranium.
The city space wins from enriched small details of our personal creativity. The richer is the internal life of the city the more expressive is the city. Unfortunately, the two thousand years of the history of Sukhum left to us not a lot of artifacts, the more responsibility is on everyone – if at least the every fifth, (oh My God, why not every third ?!) will contrive on some design, so probably, in twenty or thirty years Sukhum will become so nice that Paris and Florence will turn green of jealousness.