how difficult it is, to have shards of your heart scattered everywhere you have felt love in, even if only once.
Turkey and its pazarlar, endless olives and greens and cheese to pick and choose, the voices of the grocers competing across the squares and parking lots, free samples enough to make up a small meal. The ruins, the furious sun beating down the white stone, and the presence of the Bosphorus, endless hills making my calves burn. Merchants with easy smiles and way too much charisma, flirting cautiously, pouring me tea and complimenting my eyes. Ooooo, ne güzel, maşallah!
Albania and the dreamlike summer night that greeted me, children and lights and playgrounds, the marvellous avocado breakfast with grilled bell peppers prepared by Eros' mother who didn't speak half a word of anything but Albanian. Being truly by myself for the first time in my life and taking the biggest breath of relief ever, feeling an endless horizon extending before me, the overwhelming feeling that at long last my life was about to start.
Poland and the weight of history, the smell of incense and stone, perfume and salt and lavender and darkness, handsome horses by the basilica, chandeliers, a bath bomb and nearly boiling water, endless stairs, and unbelievable and dizzying things dancing on my tongue and clawing their way into my heart.
Germany and the wishes I held for my life there, my heart swelling with romance and hope for a bright and beautiful moment before everything was crushed under cruel heels. Their beautiful markets full of food from all over the world, the horrible graffiti swallowing Berlin whole, women braless and with the most curious haircuts, men wearing skirts and decked in jewellery.
The Caribbean and its azure waters, port cities confusing and delightful.
The ship, place of torture and still an unreplicable experience, my English skills finally taking flight.
Spain and the ornate doors everywhere, beautiful shops calling me in and asking me to spend my every penny there, plus the actual penny that got turned into a medal of our lady of Cartagena.
Cyprus and its quiet strangeness, endless expanses of yellow soil and tiny bushes, almost naked earth around the plains and verdant, strange flora near the sea. the lonely hills I could see from the beloved balcony of my very first apartment, decorated with a perpetual flag. the golden fields suddenly gone and replaced by a school, the ugly and darling fig trees in the front of the building, the sheep grazing lazily nearby and the sound of their bells filling the air before a storm.
And somehow, I'm still supposed to settle down? Feel at home, when my soul is scattered everywhere? As if. As if.
dededos
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
theartofmadeline
