There was the noise. Of the city to be left behind, of the road taken, of the denizens at the point of destination.
There was the road. Very scenic in the afternoon light, all in ripe shades of gold, green, cocoa and blue. The fields to be reaped. The storks to be admired ar they stalked the frog in freshly cut barley stubble. All the way from the sea to the south it went, bumpy and smooth, beautiful and dusty straight and not so very. The road now taken.
There was Ilukste. A place connected to some important moments of my past, a place well cared for, by the locals. A town full of ppl hate silence. First, there was a music group rehearsal (folk, country and schlager, all terribly loud). Then the individual phone-made music, screams and all that belongs to a group settling down on a first night.
then, arrangements for the next morning, then building the tent in the dark, setting the alarm for 5.20 am. Then to sleep.
Posted by Wordmobi