Surely so much could not have happened in so little time. One moment in a whirlwind of my apartment, frantic about my possessions and my time line, the next moment it's dark and we are racing along a road with few lights, chased by angry thunderheads reminiscent of the apocalypse of Pennsylvania.
And one moment, with a silent transition, we were in the most picturesque rolling farmlands dotted with the most fairytale-perfect quirky stone villages, a smattering of ponies and flowers, tree-lined avenues, and...
... Castles?
As the sunlight shifted between beautiful summer and stormy fall we hiked through an arboreal paradise. Cold diamond drops of last night's rain sprinkled the fresh loamy air as we climbed through the most perfect hunter's forest. Three bears and a bachelor huntsman could scarcely have made our journey more true. Through the woods we walked, following faint paths and looking for signs of human life between the emerald leaves.
And we found it: the holy grail of our searching, the aspiration of explorers from the New World where 50 years is an eternity.
This was a new day. This crossroads in life, the joining of two essential components of my being in such a new way. It was invigorating and at the same time perplexing.
With every forgotten structure I am always made aware of the frustrating cacophony that is so stubborn to be fixed into art. But we try, and it's a glorious process, a reward unto itself.
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