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annasawit

@annasawit

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vocoder jam. certified freaks.

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a strange kind of freedom.
not the freedom of knowing.
the opposite.

to believe is to admit that there are things you cannot verify, cannot photograph, cannot hold in your hands. to live as though their absence from evidence does not make them absent from the world.

khachkars stand in fields, beside churches, along roads, in monasteries, sometimes alone.

stone crosses.
but never simply crosses.

centuries of hands touching stone.
snow.
sun.
war.
dust.
someone placing flowers.
someone walking past without looking.
someone stopping.

the strange thing is that the stone is still there.
people are not.
languages change their sounds.
borders move.
houses disappear.

i have never been particularly interested in being told what to believe.
but i am interested in the freedom of believing.
in choosing, without proof, to make room for something larger than the measurable.

to look at a piece of carved stone and understand that thousands of people before you stood in roughly the same place and wanted something from the world that could not be explained by the world itself.

i don’t know if it makes the world more true.
perhaps it makes the world more inhabitable.

to believe is not necessarily to close the question.
sometimes it is to keep it open.
to carry uncertainty without treating it as emptiness.
to walk through a country of stone crosses and realize that faith, like memory, is not always something you keep inside yourself.
sometimes you carve it into the landscape.
and then you leave.
and centuries later, someone else comes along.

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“wave like u did when u were a lil’ one”
what a blessing it is to call this place home

when i was a lil’ one, i wanted everything to change
now, standing here, all i really ask is that it doesn’t
i would not trade these mountains for anything

🎞️ @karmir.film

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the summer picture.

i took it on my first day in yerevan.

a dog asleep in a bed of flowers, paws stretched out as if sleep had interrupted something much more important. bright red petals around, the afternoon sun flattening everything into that particular summer brightness. almost a smile.

i remember thinking: of course.

the city had barely had time to become itself again around me and already i was photographing a dog.

my father made fun of me for it later, as he always does — the dogs, the strangers, the backs of people’s heads, the sun landing on some completely insignificant object at exactly the right angle. a plastic chair. a wall. a window. somebody’s hand. things that seemed to be waiting for nobody in particular.

he thinks i take too many pictures of things that don’t matter.

shush.

that’s my art.

maybe coming home is partly this: remembering what your eyes have always done when nobody is telling them what to look at.

and that’s it.
this is the summer.

and then eventually: bye bye!
🎞️ @karmir.film

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yerevan tales // day and night edition

happy independence day homeland!! proud to be hay ra pet

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we had been told that the road was difficult,
which in Armenia can mean anything
from mildly inconvenient
to a situation requiring a Soviet-era vehicle
and a degree of religious faith

through mountains, river, forest, a road barely deserving the name
we arrived

a thirteenth-century monastery now dissolving quietly into the forest
stone, moss, wet earth, grass growing where people once built roofs

it did not feel abandoned
it felt absorbed

my father asked if i felt the energy

i think it was in the way the place appeared only at the very end
as if the forest had been carrying its own secret for eight hundred years

it was everywhere

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barcelona was truly special

i took these on a walk & talk on my first day

the moon caught between two palms
two, always the better symmetry

waves breaking against the stones
skaters cutting through the frame
dogs running around with the particular happiness of having nowhere else to be
people spilling out into the evening

so much life

i finished my call and put this song on

the sun was going down slowly, almost reluctantly
the light went from yellow to pink to that particular blue that makes everything look briefly unreal

later, a moonwalk appeared

not on the river this time
but across the mediterranean

i took the last two shots
rented a bike
and rode the boardwalk back and forth without really going anywhere

this is what i remember

the sound of wheels against the pavement
salt in the air
the blue getting darker
the moon finding its place between things

and the feeling that summer had somehow ended exactly where it was supposed to

a little reckless
completely alive

the happiest ending to a romantic summer

shout out to @karmir.film

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abundance // i want you to witness it
i want to show you the sunset from this window
the songs i keep returning to
the stories i have written in the middle of the night
the tiny things that make me laugh
not because they are yours to protect
because they are mine to share

doors open
lights on
be my guest

if u don’t water ur garden, i will!!

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What a vibe, what a night 👾💜
Photo by @annasawit
On the stage charming @witchwatching

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anna’s spring hronicles

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⁨ ⁨ ⁨ ⁨ ⁨ ⁨ 🇦🇲

۲۹سالگی رو تو ایروان شروع کردم و یه سؤال ول‌کنم نیست:
کی اینقدر عوض شدم؟

یه زمانی اردیبهشت برام مکث بود، تماشا بود، نفس کشیدن بود.

هرجای ایران که بودم خودم رو به دشت و کوه میرسوندم و شکوفه ها رو میدیدم.

الان؟

انگار فقط دارم ازش عبور می‌کنم.

نمی‌دونم تغییر کردم، یا فقط دارم تبدیل می‌شم به کسی که قرار بود بشم.

این دهه از زندگیم،
یه ترکیب عجیبه از رشد، گم‌شدن، و پیدا شدن.⁩

ممنون از وینیسیوس بابت عکسای قشنگش 🙏🏻

————————-

I turned 29 in Yerevan,
with a question that won’t let me go:
when did I become this different?

There was a time when May felt like a pause,
a moment to watch, to breathe.
Wherever I was in Iran,
I’d find my way to the mountains and open fields
just to witness the blossoms.

Now?

It feels like I’m only passing through.

I can’t tell if I’ve changed,
or if I’m slowly becoming who I was always meant to be.

This past decade
has been a quiet collision of growth,
getting lost, and finding my way back.⁩⁩
special thanks to ‪@damascenofloripa‬ for his fabulous photos🙏🏻⁩

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back in frankfurt the spring has arrived

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