I stood in the middle of the village Aikta and looked across the river. The mountain river Tayura rushed as time. Right to left, always and forever — right to the left. In the past, the Tungus (Evenks), an indigenous ethnic group who inhabited Eastern and Western Siberia, lived in this village. Now there is a lingering silence, the ground holds the memory of the murders that happened here. River, hazel trees, grass by the river, house. Blood, water, blood, water.

 

The place took everyone and gradually dissolving into time. Cultural rituals and the features so thoroughly described in research sources on Evenks culture that I was trying to find were no longer present here. Everything has been squeezed out, erased, sacrificed.Culture, erased by humanity, invariably becoming hostage to concepts pf appropriation, power and force. 

 

- What do you remember about this place?

- This place is the only one.

I remember red colour. 

My grandfather could only recognise red,

so he always dressed me in red clothes.