tomsbiketrip.com
‘By the way – sorry – what was your name again?’ ‘Tenny. I am Tenny.’
In Yerevan, Artur and I walked down the long, sloping boulevard, three lanes wide in each direction, the pavements lined with brittle, empty trees. Frozen slush crunched beneath my feet, a grey mess of footprints captured by the plummeting temperatures of night. I was talking to Artur about Andy, who… Continued () →