Moving to another country was never meant to be easy. Finding a decent job neither. Three days every week we wake up at 4 in the morning, pack our things and take the big red bus to the city centre, and run over the Old Market Square to catch the next bus. Then we spend the next 12 hours with pies. It's hard being an immigrant when everyone thinks you're Polish (while you're clearly not) and I start missing home terribly. The loud crashing of machines and the constant yelling of the cruel shift managers doesn't make it any better.
Then there was this morning. There had been a mistake and our names weren't in the list (which meant we woke up at 4 for nothing). Disappointed, we took the next bus back home. And then I saw the sun rising.
I quickly grabbed my camera from the still-sleeping home and we caught the bus 43 without any further thoughts about where exactly to go. Sneinton was waking up, quietly, with its dead leaves and parked cars, and we were riding straight into the terra incognita. The only sound being the soft whirring of the bus and the constant clicking of shutter.
We got off at the last stop and we walked on the streets of an unknown suburb with neatly cropped hedges and freshly mown grass. Everything was golden, the kind of light you only see when the sun is rising. And then we saw these fields.
If I say 'beautiful', it's quite not it. You can't really describe this place, or even more, the feeling, with any words known to man. So I created this. All photos are taken in the same fields, except for the sky which was taken in front of my house. Hope you like.