We all know what happened in Chernobyl thirty years ago. But a lot of us know it just from news or from our friends. For a long time I was planning a trip to Chernobyl and specially to Prypjat to see and feel the sadness of this place where the clocks and within the time has stopped 30 years ago.
I took my camera with me, because I was afraid, that words can’t describe what I feel. For me it was a life changing visit. I knew, that it will be emotional, sad and dignified. To stand on the main place of Prypjat which 50.000 people crossed every day until the disaster and now listening to the silence, just the Geiger counter making some noise in my hand is something I will never forget.
If somebody would ask me, if I want to go back there one day, I would answer him: Yes. Not because of taking pictures or being an extreme-tourist. Just to stand again at the ferry wheel, imagining the voices of the far away kids, who are playing on the playground or at the auto scooter next to the ferry wheel, are being happy.
I also want to the the athletes swimming in the pool, preparing for the Olympic games, or some couples sitting on the roof on the lonely chair and watching down on Prypjat. But I will not see them, not hear them. The only thing I will hear is the counter in my hand, showing me the radiation and how dangerous this place is.
The line between life and death is smaller than we think. Also a lesson Prypjat and Chernobyl taught me.
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For a long time I was planning a trip to Chernobyl and specially to Prypjat to see and feel the sadness of this place where the clocks and within the time has stopped 30 years ago
In front of me I see the giant ferry wheel, waiting for some passengers. Waiting without hope
No one will take a ride on it. Not for the next hundreds of years
A few streets away there is the swimming pool. The pool is empty, no one is swimming anymore, or preparing for the next olimpic games in this pool
Silent waves in an empty pool calling for new life, which never comes back
I also visit the school, which was the absolutely most saddest part of my visit
Nearly 3,000 gas masks on the ground. Kids size. But no kids. No laugh, not happiness
17.000 children had to leave there homes when Prypjat was evacuated
A Newspaper on the ground. It’s from April 26th. Time stopped here, conserving everything and fall into a deep sleep waiting for a far away wake-up call
A chair on the roof of a building. Alone. No one is siting here anymore, watching down on the flown away beauty of the town
I never think about atomic energy in my life, even hearing so much stories about Chernobyl since I was 7 years old
I was fascinated by the destiny of Chernobyl in a sad way, but never think about the effect of radioactivity until I visit Prypjat
and see the sad and melancholic side of nuclear power and what it could do if we doesn’t respect the energy, which nature is giving to us
Prypjat in my eyes is sleeping and silently crying for new life
Also the people leave here some tears back, when they had to leave. I’m sure, some of them knew, that they will never come back
It was a young city, full with joy and happiness and young people. Now it’s empty, lonely and sad
It lost his heart but lives in our memories waiting for a reanimation one day. Until then, it tells us his sad stories
If somebody would ask me, if I want to go back there one day, I would answer him: Yes
Not because of taking pictures or being an extreme-tourist
Just to stand again at the ferry wheel, imagining the voices of the far away kids, who are playing on the playground or at the autoscooter next to the ferry wheel, are being happy
I also want to the the athlets swimming in the pool, preparing for the Olympic games
Or some couples sitting on the roof on the lonely chair and watching down on Prypjat
But I will not see them, not hear them
The only thing I will hear is the counter in my hand, showing me the radiation and how dangerous this place is
The line between life and death is smaller than we think. Also a lesson Prypjat and Chernobyl taught me
