As you can see this mechanic prides himself on his electrical ability. Down to his heart. Hassan is also a hearty two-time taekwondo and boxing champion of the province. The man loves a drink.

Karakol is becoming a bit like In Bruges. Every time I try to leave and pack my bags it ends up drawing me back in. I can safely say I have toured the innards and driveways of all the mechanics in town. The lime Lada is slowly becoming a lemon. But with every stone easily turnable, soon it'll be in working order. God willing.

Love this church. Although this church has actually had less use as a cathedral over its history and moreso as a coal storage, nightclub and dance hall. Churches are so practical in the world. All have that acoustic interior so right for a leg-shake. Nice to see it restored to its rather incompatible use with modern-day society. Looking to buy a Lada here and sell it down the line. Lad'af them around.

Restarted this thing. It's been too long. Then again everything has been a bit slow pictorially in the past years. Hung up my boots. But my new Berghaus are on the feet so no excuse. In Bishkek in central Asia. A lot could be said for what has happened in between but again I will ignore it like Bob Dylan ignores his wives in his autobiography- just reference. Here is Kyrgystani climbing frames

The ochre over spilt

In Istanbul. The tortoise stores his wisdom in his shell. It's why I'm here until whenever. No flight home; no holds barred.

I haven't done much leering with lenses lately. I need to put more muscle into the formula, whilst simultaneously searching through the 20,000 odd leagues of photos I have and amass them in some portfolio-esque manner. In the meantime I'm preparing half-arsed for a galavant around the med, along Lycian ways and with a wish to do some ardent theme-based filming along the way, which I have so far neglected, and will probably continue to neglect if camparis on the rocks wash me up like a shipwreck.

'84

Sails