Transilvania, here I am!
Back to land that fed me spiritually when I was young... It always is (coming back here) a mixed feeling, a growing happiness mixed with a terrible fear. A fear that many cannot comprehend, and are even mocking me for it, but what they don't know is that, despite the fact that i come from here, and i was happy, here, sometime ago, this place gave me no chance to raise myself above the ranks. But, enough with this matter for now, i will probably deal with it in a later posting. Today, it's about being home, the home of my memories and childhood, the roots of my transformation from dust to what I am today.
I am sure, everyone feels connected one way or another to that particular place where we were born, or were we grew. I even noticed that I never stopped calling this place home, even though I don't live here anymore. It could be impregnated in our blood and flesh, encrypted in our brain, from the times we took our first steps, said our first words, and, somehow, these places stay with us for the rest of our lifes.
I arrived in my town early in the morning, when the sun was struggling to penetrate a meeting of fluffy clouds, and the feeling was that I lived this before (If I think of it, all my time spent here felt like I did it all before, so familiar were this places still). the silence in the morning is unique and waking up feels like escaping the jaws of sleep rather than just waking up. The rain recites to me unknown texts, while looking outside my windows gives me the view of a discreetly moving painting
Back to land that fed me spiritually when I was young... It always is (coming back here) a mixed feeling, a growing happiness mixed with a terrible fear. A fear that many cannot comprehend, and are even mocking me for it, but what they don't know is that, despite the fact that i come from here, and i was happy, here, sometime ago, this place gave me no chance to raise myself above the ranks. But, enough with this matter for now, i will probably deal with it in a later posting. Today, it's about being home, the home of my memories and childhood, the roots of my transformation from dust to what I am today.
I am sure, everyone feels connected one way or another to that particular place where we were born, or were we grew. I even noticed that I never stopped calling this place home, even though I don't live here anymore. It could be impregnated in our blood and flesh, encrypted in our brain, from the times we took our first steps, said our first words, and, somehow, these places stay with us for the rest of our lifes.
I arrived in my town early in the morning, when the sun was struggling to penetrate a meeting of fluffy clouds, and the feeling was that I lived this before (If I think of it, all my time spent here felt like I did it all before, so familiar were this places still). the silence in the morning is unique and waking up feels like escaping the jaws of sleep rather than just waking up. The rain recites to me unknown texts, while looking outside my windows gives me the view of a discreetly moving painting
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