Tbilisi, balconies leaning into the light
Tbilisi looks like it was built by people who loved wood and never threw anything away. The old town is carved balconies leaning at angles that would worry an engineer, vines over every courtyard, cats on every step. One morning started in a bakery at dawn, watching shoti bread slapped against the inside of a round clay oven.
The sulfur baths in Abanotubani smell exactly as you fear and feel better than you hope. At the Dry Bridge market I found Soviet cameras, medals and a bust of someone nobody wanted to claim. At golden hour I rode the funicular up Mtatsminda. Evenings were khinkali, a supra with long toasts, and amber wine from a qvevri cellar. Georgians are generous. Pace yourself.

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"One frame a day, from wherever I wake up. The rest of the roll lives on Instagram."
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