kiprovka in a nutshell (and why my camera died twice)

i woke up late again and immediately regretted it. the kind of regret that tastes like burnt toast and bad life choices. when i finally got outside, the humidity was honestly roasting me. 23.83 degrees celsius? sure. but it felt like 35. the kind of temp that makes your skin prickle and your camera lens fog up faster than a grease trap in a seafood restaurant. i checked the weather again and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. i didn’t.

this place is called kiprovoka. don’t google it. it’s some forgotten backwater you’ll find if you follow a broken gps signal too far. the neighbors? they’re the type that scream at delivery drivers and leave ihremen dangling from their balconies. i heard that if you ask about them, they’ll just stare at you like you asked for the recipe to national shame. the local ‘advice’? someone told me that the tap water here is pure liquid regret. i didn’t test it.

last night, i tried to photograph a crumbling wall covered in what looked like hieroglyphs. my camera died. again. the second time in three days. i’m starting to think it’s haunted. or maybe just jealous of my skill level. either way, i had to walk back to my hostel through a fog so thick it looked like someone spilled punch at a wedding. by the time i got there, the heat felt like a wet blanket stuffed with existential dread.

i asked a vendor for directions and he handed me a receipt instead. the receipt had a map on it. a simplified one. with squiggly lines and a single dotted line pointing to a spot labeled ‘the weirds.’ i think it’s a cult. or maybe a trash heap. i didn’t follow it. i’m not that wild. but i did take a photo of the receipt. it’s now my most trusted piece of evidence in a future court case where i deny ever leaving my house.

some people told me that the old train station here is haunted. not the creepy kind, like poltergeists or anything. just superbowl-sized echoes. like if you walked into a room and heard a million people whispering your name. i’m 60% sure that’s just the acoustics of a derelict place. but i’ll admit, i got spooked. i almost dropped my phone. i’d rather drop my camera. less emotional baggage.

here’s a map if you’re brave enough to come. don’t trust it. i don’t trust it either.

i found this on a dusty forum thread from 2012. and yes, the coordinates are probably wrong. but who cares? if you find it, please don’t leave. ever.

i took three photos of the same tree. one of its leaves. one of its roots. and one of a squirrel judging me from afar. the squirrel won.

for photos that didn’t die with my camera, i pulled up unsplash. here’s what i found:

the last one might not be wildlife. the algorithm’s a liar.

if you get bored, the black sea coast is just a short drive away. i mean, drive through. don’t go. the sea there is colder than my heart after seeing this place.

i left a review on yelp. it’s anonymous. i said, ‘avoid unless you want to survive a psychological experiment.’ maybe someone will read it. maybe they won’t. either way, it’s my way of paying rent to the universe.

coffee is weird here. the sort of drink that tastes like it was thrown together by a ghost and a barista who’s sad about something. i drank two. i’m still alive. barely.

someone told me that the night sky here is so clear, you can see consellations that don’t exist. i didn’t believe them. until i looked up. then i cried. not because of the stars. because i realized how small i am. and how terrible i am at photography.

i’m leaving kiprovoka tomorrow. my camera is still broken. my spirit is broken. but i took one good photo. of a puddle reflecting a broken street sign. it’s abstract. it’s meaningful. it’s 100% not what you’d expect from a place called kiprovoka.

p.s. don’t trust the humidity. it’s a liar. it’s also a thief. it steals your plans. your energy. your will to live.

if you’re reading this, you’re either brave or stupid. probably both. and hey, if you’re the squirrel, give that photo back. you owe me a amen.}}

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