Photographer Mario Heller spent three weeks crossing the steppe by train. Here is his journey through the stories of the passengers, the history of the country and the romance of the railway
The monotonous rattling of the train accompanies us through the steppe of Central Asia. The air that travels with us smells of cooked food and the exhalations of dozens of passengers. Sounds drift over to me from various corners of the wagon: a sawing snore, children’s cries, folk music and a hyperactive radio voice.
Lying in my upper bunk, I seek body contact with the cooling plastic wall because of the summer heat. I am in a twilight state between shallow sleep and nervous glances at my mobile phone: still no reception. I am trapped in the here and now. It is shortly after 3am. It is the beginning of my almost three-week train journey across the endless expanses of Kazakhstan.
Above, in the mornings, borrowed bedding is neatly folded and handed over to the train crew. Right, children play on board
