A glimpse through the lens of a traveling film photographer
The mornings were blinding, and the nights were black and bleak.
The old apartment I shared with an Albanian writer in Prishtina went completely dark by 4pm, aside from the bare bulb illuminating the bathroom sink, and a small desk lamp in her bedroom. My room, the hallway, and the kitchen (“The kitchen is closed,” she would joke) had no working overhead lights.
Read the full story on Medium.com