We continue to introduce you to the finalists of our annual grant program to support documentary photographers — an initiative implemented by UAPP with the support of the International Press Institute.
Today we are publishing the first part of Max Chorny's project “Where the Road Leads” about hitchhiking, chance encounters, and fleeting moments of life in Ukraine.
This story features Uzhhorod, Radvanka, the Egan bar, and an unexpected Epiphany. It is a journey through worlds where tequila and texts, the spiritual and the material, the camera and the night asphalt intersect. Max explores not only the geography but also the mood of the country, collecting fragments of everyday life — in conversations, street scenes, and his own reflections between trips.
The author's spelling and style have been preserved.
Uzhhorod
Time to work, Chorny!
The best cultural and educational place I found in Uzhhorod was the Egan bar. Scientists are still arguing about what exactly attracts me to it. Anyway, in mid-January 2025, I was sitting at the bar, where only girls work. On bar, (or long with), a. At 3 p.m., I ordered a glass of dark beer and finished writing a report on the circus-chapiteau, which I had been unable to complete for two months. When the number of beers drunk exceeds four, the bartenders insist on increasing the alcohol content, and I, as a responsible and self-sufficient man, of course, refrained from the shameful thought of succumbing to provocation.
After drinking a rumble of bourbon, I picked up the handset. My friend Alex Babenko called.
— Who are you, photographer?
— Hello, Alex. I have already started the project, I am sitting in a bar in Uzhgorod drinking beer.
— Bitch, Black, what beer?! Say hello to the gypsies! Take a picture!
— What kind of gypsies? Did you smoke?
— Blyakha Chorny, in Uzhgorod one of the largest settlements of Rome, go there. But not when the topics...
He probably wanted to say, “But not when it's dark.” Outside the window, however, it was foggy. No wonder he uttered the last words so indiscriminately... I quickly got up, told the girls I'd be back soon, and got a triple smile from everyone behind the bar, like a blessing on the way.
Since the nineteenth century, Granitnaya Street in Uzhgorod has served as a direct corridor to the Roman settlement. Ostrando el centro de la ciudad, y seguente a zona industriale, puede encontrar en un tunnel de fábrica brokenes, una cielo gría y asphalta smeared, como se con un spoon de jelo. På du Garmatna, metalen, glas og du. Only a stone. The setting sun suggests one thought: “It's worth getting out of here and as soon as possible.” But four glasses of beer, along with a bag of bourbon, brought me to, probably, a rubicon. Trackas de ferroviaria está última mencionación de metal en este straat. After passing them, I seemed to step on the trap of the ancient Aztecs, from which I let go up to a dozen shadows a hundred meters ahead. Not sure if they were adults, but rude voices shouting something in my direction in an unknown language suggested it was unlikely to be children. Active gestures of faces and loud shouts, and subsequently, their legs, which bent and extended, shortening the distance to me, forced, in turn, to bend and extend my legs, and at a speed far higher than average. As soon as I entered Garmatna Street, there was no desire to take the camera out of my bag, so that in case of an emergency like this one, I quickly regrouped into a tactical retreat by running back intensively. Glancing over my shoulder, I happily noticed how the figures were moving away from me, like, I was running away from there. Arriving at the first store at the beginning of the street, I asked the saleswoman what she could say about Radwanka.
Vrouw pogled na mijn emptjakka en breathed, laughing easily and without looking away from the counter where she laid out jelly bars, said:
You know, it's hard to call a taxi there. A polizia, podem, é imposible. It's getting dark, and where, it's already dark. You can't go there. But, you know, I don't recommend it in the light either.
Thank you, good evening.
Twenty minutes later, I went back to the bar for another beer.
— Are you Chorny?
— “As you can see,” I shrugged.
— If it's no secret, did you go far?
— “On Radvanka,” he replied, with defeat in his eyes.
— Where?! - the bartender glared in the shoulder of his colleagues, - he says, walking on Radvanka.
From the collective laughter, I understood one thing: you should always listen to friends to the end and not interrupt the challenge for half a word.
Twelve girls and no stool
Arriving in Uzhgorod in the morning, I had no idea where I would spend the night. But thanks to the source of fast dopamine and emotional burnout, which sometimes also serves to be useful in social connections, through instagram I found myself overnight in the city center. Lana - art director of Kuzni, an art space in Podil, wrote to me. She once organized us with Genevieve Morey literati. Je a guy Ostap, whom I had not yet met, stayed at the apartment for the weekend. We agreed to meet in the evening. As the sun set, after a walk on Radvanka I was still alive and gloating about adventure, I went to Lana and her boyfriend for an evening of vinyl. Vinyl evening in Uzhgorod. Promising.
After all, in the club we came to, there was a performance by a local rapper who, shirtless, read about the difficult routine of a simple paceman, all the challenges in his life for an unhappy love. I haven't heard or seen vinyl. Our acquaintance with Ostap began thoroughly with the performance of the next performer. Also, like a local who sang country — blues. Från,, Dana's boyfriend a I. Lana introduced me to three girls. She said they live in the next room. And there are nine more. I added the existing ones to the locked rooms and counted twelve girls who lived next to the place where I was supposed to spend the night. When asked by Lana a Ostap if I want to go to the apartment, I answered that in principle, we can go if the girls urgently need my company.
Beside the gates of the private sector, we were waiting for a pool with barely warm water. However, you do not pay much attention to the temperature of the water in the pool, when in mid-January twelve girls bathe there and with a wave of a hand invite you to join. On the first day of the photo project, I was satisfied with the beginning, and most importantly, I did not think about its continuation. Because after the first spoonful of honey, tar is no longer so terrible. Before going to the girls to drink tequila and smoke a jig, Lana a Ostap played the tables “Exploding Cats” and I have to admit, for an hour I randomly threw away cards because I did not understand the rules of what seems to be the easiest game in the world. You slept soundly.
Woke up easily. Uzhgorod greeted me with fog, gyros in Lviv croissants and american. Then I had to go to Drohobych.
Epiphany
I reached the exit from the city on foot. On the way to the park, I met a herd of people walking towards me. I decided not to ask passers-by where there are so many showers on the street on Sunday morning in Uzhgorod, so I went to the epicenter of events. As it turned out, then there was Epiphany, a Christian holiday dedicated to the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River. The closest in the area was the Uzh River (oddly enough). A maximalist views on the life of the father who ran the ball gave him the will to consecrate it (the river) whole. I approached my father, when he gave his apron to the little boy with a sincere smile, to all thirty-two, and asked:
— Good afternoon. And how did you sanctify the whole river?
— “With God's help,” the rector of the church answered me. “What are you photographing here?
— And I walked by, saw people, and I took pictures. Such work.
— Aha, I get it. But are you not photographing for evil or bad, not for any such sources?
— “Well,” I replied, Max Black, “I take pictures for all the good that exists.
— Oh, well, well, because you know, there are different ones, everyone goes to take pictures.
— Don't worry, have a good day, thank you.
— With God!
Having passed the verification for the good, I returned to the direct road to the detour, shook off the remaining whiskey in the bottle and twisted the cigarette. Het dag er foggy en fresne, som var av min brainen.
Finally on the road. Bethlehem and spiritual latte
The first to pick me up on this trip were three girls. Uzhgorod loves me very much. At this time she was a mother and three little daughters in the back seats. The old white Audi gladly accepted me with its warmth. I forgot, sorry, the name of the lady who took me twenty kilometers to Mukachevo, but I remembered for a long time that it was she who picked up three gypsies on Christmas Eve - carols, who after a working day returned home on a long-forgotten road. På mijn astonished face,, a:
These are also someone's children...
The lady dropped me off before an unknown turn. I went further along the road for about twenty minutes, until Elina and her boyfriend Paul (the chain of women is broken) took me on board. They told me about the word “Bethlehem.” In Transcarpathia they are called a nativity scene. Therefore, I will correct myself in the last paragraph, the three gypsies that the lady took in the old Audi did not come from the nativity scene, but from Bethlehem. Perhaps the word “nativity” would be the only counterargument to “These are also someone's children.”
At the roundabout (where Paul and Elina dropped me off), I passed by the gas station and hesitated: should I go to warm up, have a coffee, or immediately take a seat on the road. Inside the skull there were signals to go on the road, and something inside (hereinafter I will call it “something inside” by my Raccoon), so, Raccoon prompted to go to the gas station.
— Greetings. Can you treat yourself to coffee? — at the entrance stood a girl with a big suitcase, and a pink-red total look.
“Of course,” I replied.
The girl smiled in sincere surprise and thanked her.
— Što ćete biti?
— Lazy.
— Big?
— Well, if you can.
— What kind of coffee do you want?
— “Big latte,” she answered confidently.
I ordered a large latte and an Americano.
— Are you a traveler?
— To some extent, yes.
— How is this, at least what? Aren't you full time?
— “Hah, well, I'm just drunk. But the traveler is not complete. Yes, moments.
— Oh yes, drunk. I forgot that word. And you are not from those who, well, because I do not speak Ukrainian, but you are in Ukrainian, this is not you...
— No, don't worry, everything is ok. Many people who were condemned for language?
— It's good that you're not one of those. Well, well, not very much. I am from Kharkiv in general. I'm going to work. So she decided to brood everything. Well, there were people who were not offended, you are not so good.
— And where to work?
— I can't remember the name of the village. She built a pot. I thought, still a young girl, well, I'm thirty, because she won't travel, she won't see the country. Went and went. I won the train. I will see you with a camera and a voice recorder, you are a straight professional! And where are you going?
— I'm going to Drohobych. I am currently working on a photo project, hitchhiking from Uzhgorod to Konstantinovka, in Donetsk region.
— Like this, all hitchhiking?
— Aha
Well, you know, that's cool. I had such a strange dream the other day. I just remembered how the head becomes clear.
— Tell me?
— Do you want to?
— If I ask, of course I want to.
Anastasia smiled.
— I dream of a sister, in general, and she has six nipples on her chest. It was not meant to be vulgar or sexualized, you will not take it. Just a woman's breast. But she has six nipples on each breast. And what kind of man tries to suck his milk. But I jumped up and ran quickly. That dream is over.
— Very interesting dream, I liked it, - I say sincerely and simply.
— Seriously? — Anastasia also sincerely asks.
— Aha. And what is your name? We still haven't met, — I finish my coffee and give Anastasia a hand.
— “I am Anastasia, not Nastya.” says Anastasia and looks at my hand, without stretching her.
— Very nice, Anastasia, not Nastya. I'm Max. Just Max. Do not shake hands with strangers? - I say awkwardly, lowering my palm.
And I have an ascetic. At the same time, it's all tactile, - Anastasia began to imitate touches to different parts of my body with her hands. Remotely. - Ja sam ja djevojka, ali ja želim prijatelj, tako sve je serično.
— I understood you without negativity.
— Yes, no negatives, only positives.
— Do you leave any memory notes in my notebook?
— Do you still have a laptop? Well, you are a remarkable traveler. Let's.
Anastasia turned my pocket notebook backwards and on the last page wrote two words under each other: “Blessings, Love”, drew a heart, the Sun and an incomprehensible sign.
What did you draw? What does that mean?
Look, that's a plus. Not divided into horizontal and vertical. Het punten in het figuur is het punten om de plus linen intersect. Exhale, the horizontal line — that's all material. E la verticale è la composizione spirituale di vita. If they are divided, then the plus will not fulfill its function. Only the past of the material remains. And he will not take anything for granted. And if he joined life something, he will unite the spiritual vertical. En dat het punt, waar de materiaal en spirituele converge, als een livelijf beginnen. And love is for peace. Kindness you for coffee.
— Wow, I would be very happy to carry these ideas in my notebook. Grazie. Do you smoke?
— Yes
— I can roll you a cigarette.
— Come on.
Anastasia and I smoked to the right from the entrance to the gas station. Ostrando la sala de estación de gas, eu je suprised that she left all the things outside.
— Aren't you afraid to stay that way?
— Who will take them? Does this strike anyone? - Anastasia said confidently and indifferently.
Clutching a cigarette, at arm's length, I only waved my palm, remembering her touching asceticism. Vad on, a hundred meters from the gas station, I saw a pink spot with a large gray suitcase cross the road. I thought maybe she decided to keep me company until I caught a hitchhiker. She passed my side of the road without even turning to the point of intersection of the spiritual and the material, right under my feet.
— “I'm going to Drohobych,” I say to the trucker who stopped in fifteen minutes.
— “I can go to Stryi,” he replies.
— So close to Drohobych?
— Yes, hand in hand from there.
— Will you prove it?
— Wait a bit.
Vasily the Theologian and the Good Twins
Truckers come in several types. En el curso de esta história, vam vam a ti sobre alcuni. Vasily is a representative of the type of non-initiative, but easy to climb. With them, for some time from the beginning of the trip, you ask about their personal life, about work. But in the process you see that voluntarily the driver does not raise his personal topics and answers the questions more and more concisely. He doesn't ask about your life either. There are two options here. You go all the way silently (or to the music) or at some point in the journey you wonder how you came to this topic. That's how Vasily and I, after twenty minutes of a short personal interview, dug up the topic of religion for ourselves. Næste, the decoding of the video from the cassette camera, which was with me the whole trip.
*on the stereotypical representation of God in mass culture*
“Well, there is a priest,” Vasily begins, “he sits on the throne with a gray beard. And the father says, Marusya or Katya asked to transfer you... Well, is that how they imagine it? Who can speak to God only through the priest in the church? Yes, this is a brother. God, who is that? That's Good! He comes absolutely instantaneously. He is the Spirit, not the grandpa with the beard. In the Gospel it is written that he lives as it is said in the Bible. And there is nothing about all these things and so on. About the worship of the cross, or that is what is now in the church. Wel, het kros is een symbool van de crucifixion. But I do not believe what he is, - Vasily points to the cross glued to the windshield, - he takes care of me. My Vera takes care of me. And all these are rituals, they are not needed. It's just you and God.
Next, the recording of the tape goes to Drohobych. Anda, unbeknownst to the reader, we have not yet arrived. From the district of Stryi, I took a taxi through the whole city, to the exit, to the closed gas station. I climbed to the curb, almost drowning in a steam cloud, in the evening the frost set in, it was already nine o'clock. Due to the fact that the road was unlit, in a couple of minutes I got used to it and looked at the stars. I was standing in a reflective vest, so lonely passing cars definitely saw me. Next, I decipher the recording for you from the recorder.
*about one's place in the “plus” of life and positivity as a self-sufficient characteristic of release*
Stable at the exit from Stry on the way to Drohobych. There are 30 km left. Standing here with a voice recorder, drivers think that I have some kind of stupor here. The topic of the conversation: “What should be in a person's head when she stopped at seven (I lied, it was not nine) in the evening in complete darkness to pick me up to Drohobych?”
What should be in her head? Dachshund, what can you say here? It's great to drive, you know. He and Basil had just left. His last name is Muntian, pretend? It's cool to realize that you don't have a place. Rather, you have no place. Who can be more behind the “here and now” than the road? The car passed. Yes, it's cool that you have no place, it turns out, there is no past and future, and you do not exist even in the moment. Can there be time without space? A place is a space. You don't have it. It turns out that you don't exist for metaphysics? Para la mecanica quantumica, se você pode existe e no existe em a heman demê. But since I'm on the road and I don't even have a second for “here and now,” you end up “nowhere.” Just nowhere. Between space and time. There are only people for you. Traveling Souls. Tous toos, en principio... Wel, uw passt, in principio, je meterd door ljudi, múmeros com estos personas. Memories are not attached to a place or time. Memories are attached primarily to the person, and only then you remember where and when it was. First, the main thing is with whom. A “dove” e “quando” sono rudimentos de la consciencia humana limitada. You may forget where and when you met this person, but you remember “who I met”. But you will never forget “who” you met, knowing the time and place. The main thing is people. The era of humanism, yopta, live! Will anyone stop? Ha?!
As Anastasia said today, that the plus, the point of intersection of the material and the spiritual is life. Only in the balance of matter and spirit is true life. But if you are outside matter, as I am now, is this life, say others? But it turns out that this is such an afternoon point. For me it is the intersection point, it is my golden mean, even if it is outside of matter, apartments, permanent work. If it is beyond spiritual, religion, icons. My matter is asphalt, a spirituality is a camera. Anda se intersecto a punto que Anastasia na estación de gasos llamada realidad. The real mine. But even if this is the case with all this nonsense that I have already come up with, then...
Stry and Drohobych are thirty kilometers away. A,. And again a case in point. While I warm up by walking near my backpack, Mr. Myron, who taxis in Stryi district took one of the last orders for that day. Should I have gone where? Yes, in Dobryvlyany. And, of course, the Drohobych district. Well, of course, Mr. Myron automatically took this order while he was in Stryi. And again a case in point. A passenger from Dobryvlyany of the Drohobych district needed to go to Stry. Either way, Myron would have made it home, except after winding the extra 30 km.
Fifty meters from me, the car stopped.
I said hello, the driver nodded silently. Asked if he was going to Drohobych, the driver nodded silently. Asked if he would throw up — nodded.
Continuation in the second part (to be announced soon)
