edensgarden's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cold and windy, thoughts on Bulgaria At least you know you were taken by a pro; I know just how you feel. She talked a perfect game, deflecting all the blame. You took the jack and changed the flat and got behind the wheel and now you�re driving sideways, taken in by the scenery as you�re propelled along and your companion will not help you to navigate for fear she may be wrong. Driving out to work this morning I observed the remnants of last night�s rain storm. The sky in before me was a deep shade of purple and there was a wall of rain in the southeast moving slowly toward me. Normally I hate Thursdays. That is the day I have to do morning parking lot duty. Not today however. I just stood at my post looking at the yellow sun peek thru the clouds and that same wall of rain. Again the wind brushed my face. I wish I could have just stood there with my arms outstretched and breathing in the clean air. I was sad when the bell rang and I had to go back to class. The landscape and scenery of today made me think of Bulgaria. There were many mornings after the rain when I would awake early and go and sit on my balcony. I lived in Borovo, right at the base of Mt. Vitosha. Many mornings she would be shrouded with clouds, even so, Cherni Vrux, the highest peak on the mountain, would poke through. The blocks would still be sleeping and I could hear the sound of a far away train or bus. I would relish this quiet time to think, and to contemplate life and my existence. Slowly as people would emerge from the cement apartment towers noise would fill the courtyards and allies. I loved this too. I need to go back, and soon, I want to go back in the autumn, when the smell of burning peppers hangs thick in the air and people can jars of tomatoes over huge open pit fires. Maybe next year. Close your eyes and wait to hear your name like a whisper in your soul, and in a moment Ill be rushing over you in a memory of a moment we one stole. With a heart made of wind I will run through the clover and I�ll fly to the city, slip away through the trees and though I�m far away, I�ll be gone as quickly as I came but I�ll mess up your hair before I go, and if I�m wilder than the ones you knew before, I�m just holding you the only way I know. 10:34 p.m. - August 29, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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