The Silent Edge (2026)

Sporovo is a small village in Western Belarus. Buses arrive here, make a stop and then return — it’s the last stop on the route map. Once, this place was surrounded by a lake and swamps, and people sailed straight to their yards by boats. Now only memories and straightened channels of the swamps have remained, but the lake still stretches along the village, mirroring the sky and time.

Over the five centuries of its existence, this place has been a part of various states and cultural outlooks: the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, the Russian Empire, Poland and the Soviet Union. All these historical layers have been intertwined in Sporovo.

It’s quiet here today. You’ll rarely meet a passerby on the streets. Empty, abandoned houses alternate with those where the natural flow of life continues. Silence envelops the village, and the time seems to pass slowly here, following the steady rhythm of nature.

There are still people who remember this place as something completely different. They grew up listening to the songs sung in the streets and along the shore when the entire village gathered together. Singing was a part of everyday life, and the voices of the villagers could be heard on almost every street. Back then, there were more people, fish and birds, horses, cows and pigs — and life seemed more fulfilling.

Now these songs have been replaced by silence, but they remained in our memories and stories, like an echo that still reverberates. The past breathes nearby — in old houses and in the stories of those people who remember bygone years. Here, memory is not a museum exhibit, but a part of everyday life, a thread connecting generations.