I found myself in Transnistria by pure chance, after a train journey from Kyiv to Odesa. Originally bound for Chișinău airport and a flight home, I had a few days to spare, so I decided to visit Tiraspol, the capital, or more accurately, the self-declared capital of this breakaway republic. From the outset I was drawn to its peculiar atmosphere. In the years that followed I returned several times for brief summer visits, travelling the region from north to south and quietly documenting its landscapes. As its name suggests, literally “beyond the Dniester”, Transnistria is the strip of land on the left bank of the river, wedged between Moldova and Ukraine. In 1990 it declared independence from Chișinău, triggering a war in 1992. The conflict has remained frozen ever since. Relations between Chișinău and Tiraspol have gradually improved, thanks in part to European Union mediation, though the ongoing war in Ukraine has once again heightened tensions in the region. The majority of inhabitants are Russians, yet the region remains notably diverse, with many Ukrainians, Moldovans and Bulgarians living side by side. In the past, Jews, Armenians and Germans also formed significant parts of the population. Journalists and travellers often describe Transnistria as “a country that doesn’t exist.” The phrase has become a cliché, yet it captures something essential about the region’s ambiguous status. Compared to Moldova Transnistria has retained a more visible connection to the Soviet era. This persistence is evident in the urban planning and everyday surroundings: wide streets, apartment blocks, abundant green spaces, statues honouring Lenin, collective farmers and cosmonauts, houses of culture, mosaics, outdoor stalls selling kvass, railways and heavy industry; all set against sweeping yellow wheat and sunflower fields that stretch along the Dniester. Yet this connection is not only architectural; it carries an emotional weight for those who live there. Through this photographic essay, I seek to reveal the suspended scenery of this little-known corner of Europe, where traces of a vanished world linger quietly amid the rhythms of rural life.