photojournalism

Waking up covered completely with a fluffy, white duvet in a cosy, warm flat I groaned and pulled the cover over my face and tried to flick the alarm off with as little effort as possible. It was 7am and the phone case prevented stopping the alarm that penetrated my sleep and shot me into the waking world with little remorse. I had no excuse, I was supposed to be up to catch the best snow and enjoy whatever powder lines were still intact from the previous night’s snow.

Dawn was just breaking in Yerevan, Armenia and the sun was starting to filter through the high rise buildings in the centre illuminating the mish mash of streets and buildings. The only people walking the street at 5.30 am were the unlucky few. Those who have early morning shifts at the hospital, the parking conductors, the cigarette venders or those heading towards the numerous construction sites across the city. Yerevan in the early morning is much like any other city, the rich and poor, the young and old and the pace of life are all very similar to say London, Paris or Milan.