Photographer and Photojournalist Svetlana Tarasova is the Edge of Humanity Magazine contributor of this photo essay. From the project ‘Radonitsa’. To see Svetlana’s body of work, click on any image.

When my sister and I were kids, our parents used to leave us in the country during the summer. Hot summer days that were filled with adventures, gradually faded into golden evenings, and summer wind flowing through the tree tops, whispered that summer would never end.

When summer was over, we returned to our city apartment in tears, and at night, wished upon a star for time to speed up, so that we could get back to the country again. We looked at the Moon through the window, getting comfort from the fact that it was the same Moon as “over there”, at grandma’s place, where meadows stretched beyond the horizon and birch trees pierced the sky.

I still long to return “over there”. Now, we come only on the day of Radonitsa holiday to visit family graves. When I return to the country, I seem to step out from the stream of time and find myself, once again, on a road where I used to run barefoot. In the quiet of the country, I am listening to a trembling aspen and ringing dry leaves of an old poplar disturbed by the lightest touch of wind. Grasshoppers are chirping, and somewhere high in the sky an airplane has left its trail.

I step out onto the porch at night and look up. The Milky Way is right above the roof of our house. A star has fallen and got tangled in the curly mane of a maple tree. If you keep staring at Mars for a long time, you get a feeling that someone is staring back at you. Another moment, and I’ll remember where I come from…

A local dog John, an old vagabond, has put his head in the palms of my hands. It feels warm and heavy. Time has slowed down. My childhood continues for as long as my mother keeps praying for me.