Narrow, long streets of Tbilisi, enchanted by greenery. Old houses, the old town climbing upwards. Neat houses, and cypresses growing between them. Silver, graceful, centuries-old churches rise from the ground like trees. Relaxed people—locals, newcomers, tourists.

Add-ons on the house. Georgian free will is reminiscent of the Vietnamese urge to expand their homes.

Blue skies. Everything seems drenched in sunlight; it feels like Tbilisi has always been a city of greenery, a city of tender, affectionate sun.

The Georgian temper: at the next table, a Georgian family is talking passionately and hugging each other. It might seem like they’re arguing, but of course, they’re not. And sometimes strangers argue on the streets too, but even that is nothing more than a friendly quarrel. It feels as if they extend their own homes beyond their walls with everyone they meet.

In the streets of Tbilisi, light spills from corners onto pavements, carefully in some places, unexpectedly in others. Graffiti—as a form of expression—is all over the town.

Kartlis Deda (Mother of Georgia) shines brightly and proudly from the **Sololaki Hill, watching over the whole city.

While walking through the streets of Tbilisi: people talking to each other smiling, laughing loudly, getting emotional loudly. Elderly women sit and raise their sharp eyebrows, baring their teeth at young, openly dressed Georgian girls.

An owner of a fruit and vegetable shop, sleep-deprived, often dozes off during his shift. We always greet him, and he’s gotten used to us.

While walking through the streets of Tbilisi: you can’t help but notice how much locals care for their family members. They run after restless children all the way down the street, carry elderly parents on their shoulders or in wheelchairs, children play in courtyards and their parents gently stroke them. Locals embrace warmly when parting, touch each other while talking, look deeply into each other’s eyes, and listen intently—all to show care.

While walking through the streets of Tbilisi: everyone is in a hurry, everyone rushes to be the first to cross the street, to enter a doorway, to stand out. And then they hide in their small courtyards, where several families live together.

You can’t help but notice these courtyards, gilded by sunlight, where ropes with brightly colored laundry hang like vines. Clothes are arranged by size: large items first, ending with children’s clothes; towels are always hung on one side, apart from the rest.

And on the ground lies a ball, a yard is empty now, a family is having lunch.

These small courtyard portals fill your chest with a warm feeling. Each one is different from another—every courtyard-portal has its own life.

While walking through the streets of Tbilisi: suddenly, the air fills with the most delicious smell—a bakery pulsing with warmth, calling you to join the long line for a small khachapuri to go.

While walking through the streets of Tbilisi: you can feel how people here are united by pleasure. Pleasure in everything—in hot food, Georgian wine, music, dancing, celebrations, unity of people during rallies, a sunny day, idle conversations, a beautiful park where you can sit on a bench.

And once again, you find pleasure here, that feeling of coming home, where someone is always waiting for you.