The rhapsody of feelings and emotions
You open your eyes, blinded by the scorched July sun that has gotten a tint of bright green from the ceiling of the tent. A yawn escapes your mouth as you try to make your way to the river to dip your fingers in, so the sleep would wash away on the stones. Familiar faces move around greeting you for the day that is yet to unfold and, laying on the shiny grass, scavenging for your late breakfast because you slept in unable to fall asleep under a sky full of stars, you can’t shake off the uncanny feeling that you have been here before.
If a house is a body, then people are the heart, beating love and strangeness and sorrow and joy into it until it breathes and laughs and cries and lives and dies with them. Then, if nature is the universe, then people are the stars, ever present, ever shining, arranged into shape by the hand of a God and still shaping humanity. Take people out of their starless ceiling bedrooms and offices and make them look at the stars. At themselves. That was our protocol every night, no matter the location, as soon as the sun was down, we were looking up. And the stars grew brighter and brighter as we travelled, climbing closer.
Music accompanied the endless talking in the night as our necks grew longer trying to reach the little lights. But the silence was the loudest, the most understanding. We could hear our hearts synchronizing as they became one on the grassy fields, sandy beaches or rocky mountains.
Since we could not bring down the stars, we made our own earthly ones. We would gather around it, seeking the warmth of the burning coals or souls, as we unfolded to the darkness of the night or horror stories, we would tell that made even the bravest of us crouch in fear, reaching out for the other’s hand to hold close to their heart. Going south into the land of roses, we would sing songs and eat marshmallows by the light of the moon, day by day getting closer to the fire, united by a bundle of arms and feet rooted deep in the sand and into the soul. Southeast of all we would feel the end creeping, goodbyes whispering around every word we would say, so the silence lay steadily on our shoulders as we looked up still, lounged on our backs, ready for the sky to fall on us.
The nights had something in them, something mystical and ancestral, making the feelings of tribal, primal importance and closeness to nature and other fellow humans of our forefathers a reality to us. But the days, oh the days, a blessing. Laying, dancing and playing in the sun until our skin got burned and peeled off layer by layer. From swimming in the river to swimming in the lake and finally, into the sea, the bodies of water we encountered grew with us and our bonding became the water. We travelled to islands to pick up daisies which became crowns, bouquets and promises which we kept close between our fingers or book pages, so they could press on our chest as a bittersweet memory. We would recollect like nymphs in a healing process during the time when there is neither day, nor night, the Sun taking a quick glimpse at the Moon, embellished in a rainbow of reds and yellows.
Sunset by sunset, we grew trees in the forests of our hears, deforested into the jungle of concrete we call our home. But our home is between the Carpathian Mountains, on a plain next to a river where we used to chill our feet while eating watermelons. Our home is next to the lake of Batak, kayaking into the muddy waters with frogs and fish, seagulls and daisies, singing “Sunroof” until we ran out of breath. Our home is the white shores of the Aegean Sea, the smell of sun still lingering in our hair while every sunset, every sunrise, every stone and shell and breeze and look found a place in my iris. But my home is in the chest cavity of the people that I touched, with words and fingertips, between the atrium, there is the strangest little thing – the soul. That is where I would like to live the rest of my life.
Ecoventure bit: „The mirror of love and despair”
Once upon a time there lived two men, in two different lands, but neither knew how much alike they were until they embarked on a journey, a quest of finding themselves and others by through nature, stars and sunsets.
Blinded by love and desire, they dedicated their soul to their women, spoiling them with all their love, both of mind and body, only to by slashed by their brutal, feminine greed, a few days prior to their embarking on the journey. They proceeded either way, as if called by something, with a heavy soul and a thirst for life, still bleeding. When they saw each other, something inside them clicked and such a strange familiar look they gave that cannot be transmitted into words of any human tongue.
They spent their nights drowning their sorrows on mountains peaks, shores and forests, unfolding their life and love and loss stories. But something was not right. Every word one said the other already knew. It seemed as if they were lost twins separated at birth, living the same life ever since then. At least love wise. Let me tell you how strangely similar their love affair was. Both their lovers were named Andreea. Both of them were in a serious relationship. Both were living together. Both were left heartbroken, cheated with other men, days before leaving for the journey. And other minor details that were long gone in the matter of things. They found peace in their conversations until sunrise and the ebbing of the waves. Until one night.
Pushed by desperation of the possibility of doing things differently, or by the pride of having the most flawed woman from the two, in the heath of the moment, they lashed at each other’s throats, quite literally, because it was late, dark and cold in Batak that night, with loud war cries then actually crying, melting in the warm embrace, finally letting it all come out. They fell asleep under the stars that night, tending to the fire and to each other, dead sleeping in the sand, so much that the other people of Batak even thought so. Ah, the bittersweetness of romance. Prepare the koliva! For ever lasting friendships found in lost love!
The content for this post is part of our online blog called “Ecoventure” which aims to share our experience in the Erasmus+ Youth Exchange ”Ecotourism Ventures for Youth Environmental Education”. The project was financed with the support of the European Commission through Erasmus+ Programme. This blog reflects only the author’s views, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.
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