Wonder, how much time is spent in the road? In a global sense – highway, rustle of tires, water splashes from under the wheels, or snow... The road as part of life, the inner state of each. Whether it is a road to job or back, in any weather, when time goes in parallel, and summer gives way to autumn, then winter – so year after year. The road as a path for jogging in the early morning. The road as an evening walk arm in arm with a beloved, a quiet conversation about everything and nothing, or simply go along and silent. No need for words when feel the pulse under fingers, thus happy only because she is near. There are self, she and the Universe...
It always ends. It always ends the same. Sometimes a couple of days earlier, sometimes a couple of days later, but always with rains and cold winds. I understand I have lived this little life and hungrily swallow these remains of happiness. I am siting here – on the very edge, on the edge of summer and dream of one thing only: to quickly start it over once again. Once again – from the beginning. And what then? And then it will be like it always is. Like always, I will be waiting for summer!
