Usually I am not bond to places, rather to people.
And along my travels I have been to amazing places, like Machu Picchu in Peru… or just the glorious and sweet Kali-basin by the lake Balaton in Hungary.
There are always first times, and until we have these, we’re young, we haven’t seen it all. And occasionally the largest surprises may lay in the most common things.
It’s since I moved by the sea that I discovered my deep devotion for mountains and mountain lakes and rivers. Strange, but this is how it is.
Today it feels like that it’s not only the rivers and mountains and quickly swimming happy fishes in the emerald river of Soča, but the snow white pebbles, or blueish, or sand-yellow gravel, the softly or strongly blowing wind, the mirror-like silk surface of the ever-singing and laughing waters, the heavily sitting rocks on the sides witnessing tens of thousand years passing by in water drops.
A deep, silent cleaning of that bodily weariness and emotional and spiritual exhaustion which I babysat since a while.
There is a thirst for silence. There is a thirst of getting lost in simplicity, in the ever-unfolding hieroglyphs of mute rocks, in between those dancing dark spots of playful fishes you see when you peep out from a hanging rock to see the running emerald river below.
I’ve been there for 3 days only, and having left it I feel as homesick as I never felt before.
For those ever wanderers out in the world, inside and out, there is a place, and there is a time, there is an arrival to home.
And then, when you must leave: you leave a piece of your innermost behind, and you take a piece of it within.