"And again..."/Barzas/

__I love going back to places that inspired me once before. There are several reasons for this... Depending on the season and weather, the changing state of nature reveals their texture, color and beauty in completely different ways. In addition, during one trip, it is difficult to look into all the corners, walk around the outskirts and fully explore the territory of the settlement. And yet, in each new outing there are interesting people who strike with their originality, naivety and some childish simplicity.
___the same thing happened during another trip to # Barzas. Traveling by car with a team of crazy people like me made it possible to make a stop in the village of #Biryuli, which last time flew with lightning speed outside the window of an intercity bus. We must pay tribute to the rainy weather, in addition to the discomfort in the form of wet clothes and red noses from the cold, it gave an additional drama to these God-forsaken villages. I wanted to go, watch, be impressed and empathize… And there really was something to empathize with. Despite the fact that for almost a century barzassite was mined in these places – the most ancient and unique coal in the world, deposits of which were found only in the area of the Barzas river and are currently not found anywhere else, the squalor and mossiness of these places is simply off the scale. Leaning remains of huts, decrepit fences, weedy vegetable gardens, lack of normal roads, social services, and in some places, drinking water. Even the few manicured estates, the stunning beauty of nature and the riot of autumn colors could not block the belief that people do not live here, but survive.
___ A vivid proof of this was Monya Yevgenyevich, a resident of the village # Barzas, a 70-year-old pensioner. He calls himself exclusively a hermit and a shaman, despite the fact that for many years he worked as an ordinary miner in the preserved Biryulinsky mine. Moni's house, like himself, is impressive. Although this dwelling can only be called a house in the conventional sense with a very large stretch. It was a ridiculous structure, hung with strange structures, figures, and animal skulls. Free space at the house and on the side of the garden is filled with old equipment, more like a pile of scrap metal. Across the road is a wooden shed with access to an open field. The owner absolutely forbade us to go there. Because this is a ritual place where he performs his rituals every day and communicates with his deceased spouse. To my regret, Monya Yevgenyevich did not allow me to photograph myself, explaining this by some special miraculous ban. But at the end of the dialogue, he "blessed" me, for some reason drawing a cross with chalk on my palm and allowed me to take a selfie. To be honest, he left an extraordinary impression of himself. Either a really aggressive village madman, or just a lonely person who is forced to brighten up his loneliness by living out his life on a street with a multi – lingual name-Gorky street. To understand his psychology, my colleagues did not let me, literally dragging me away. They were really afraid for our safety after they saw axes placed in almost every corner of Mona's yard. I drove home tired, but impressed and blessed. What else does a mad photographer need to be happy?!
__IF you are going (suddenly) to visit Mona Yevgenyevich, keep in mind that he likes sweet things, and sometimes something hot. This is what he said to us at parting.