An ordinary day, nothing to remember. A few problems with suppliers not delivering on time in spite of promises. A couple of payments still outstanding, even after three or four…
‘My babulya’s been murdered.’ Not words you ever want to hear, especially when you’ve put your jacket on, decided to walk home though the park, anything to avoid wearing your…
Amateurs - An Akyl Borubaev story The squad room was empty, the only sound the whisper of dust gently settling on filing cabinets stuffed with unsolved cases.
The message came in early one morning, the sun barely beginning to clamber over the mountains to the north-east of the city. The lockdown had taken all the taxis and…
Rather than another post about Bishkek’s bar scene, I thought a mini-story about Akyl Borubaev might pass a couple of moments. After all, that’s hopefully why people read this blog…