The Departure

My story with the UK began with a suitcase, a violin, and a backpack.

Fresh out of school in Kazakhstan, I boarded a plane to London.

Friends joked I’d end up at Hogwarts. Maybe I did.

I landed in Oxford, where I took on the International Baccalaureate at St. Clare’s.

Those two years were not just academic - they were alchemical. Days filled with theory, nights with tears on textbooks, trying to decipher the essence of what it meant to be an international soul.

After IB, I moved to London, drawn by a sense that it was the centre of the world.

I studied Accounting with Management at the University of Westminster, but the real education happened outside lecture halls.

In concert halls. In midnight trains. In conversations with strangers who turned into lifelong friends.

Of Culture, Community, and Story

In London, I joined the Kazakhstan Student Society in the UK - more than a club, it became a calling.

We ran events that brought stories to light. One special moment: hosting Olympic legend Ilya Ilin for an evening with students.

Another: the Central Asian Spring Festival at UCL, where I stage-managed for an audience of over 2,000. We invited Son Pascal and launched his album “Yurt”, celebrating Nauryz in full colour and sound.

These moments opened new doors. I was invited to work as Associate Producer at Spring Films, supporting the documentary “Where the Wind Blew” by Dr. Andre Singer.

I oversaw the musical dimension - the release of Nevada-Semey Suite by Nicholas Singer, recorded at Shabyt University in Astana. The project merged Kazakh folk instruments with Western classical music, creating a dialogue between cultures, past and future.

The film received the Raven Award for Best Feature at DocUtah.

Diplomacy in Quiet Rooms

From there, I joined the British-Kazakh Society during a critical phase of rebranding and relaunch.

As Membership Secretary (2018–2020), I curated over 30 high-level meetings and private affairs involving influential figures from both the UK and Kazakhstan.

The Society at the time held honorary patrons and ambassadors from both nations. The support of its Advisory Board, including Lords of Parliament, helped us host ministerial events that strengthened bilateral dialogue across sectors.

While roles evolved and titles changed after my departure, I learned how diplomacy happens not only on podiums, but in rooms where trust is built and stories are exchanged.

And in the background - always - music. I performed carols at St. Marylebone Parish Church, not for applause, but for spirit.

When the Streets Stopped, I Started Watching

Then the world changed. The pandemic slowed time. And in that stillness, I found a new medium.

While others rushed toward digital futures NFTs, metaverses, avatars - I reached for the analogue past. I dove into film photography. I walked the streets of London capturing portraits, shadows, and small human truths. I believed and still do that analogue is a form of resistance. It slows you down. It demands presence.

I merged this with digital innovation. I began recording the ambient sounds of each photo at the moment of capture - footsteps, wind, voices and minted these hybrids as NFT artefacts.

Each piece became a time capsule: one soul, one image, one sound, preserved forever.

Some of my work was quietly published in Esquire Kazakhstan, part of a client’s feature.

Most of it remains in the archive - waiting for the right light.

The Great Sign-Off

And somewhere along this path, I left social media behind.

I saw an ad asking, “What will you say to your child if most of your life is taken by this?”. That was enough.

I chose to return to presence.

To soul.

To a life not documented, but lived.