I would like to write a story about this place, about its beauty and uniqueness, but I feel unable to describe in words the mixture of feelings that bear in me when I am here. I wish I could write about the fragility of the moment and its importance. I want to write about how the sun suddenly disappeared drowned in a sea of clouds. I’m projecting myself in the spring rain that washes and revives everything. White lilac flowers mix with the smell of rain and with children’s laughter. Soon it will be dark. I see the children mingle between white flowers on the cold and wet ground.
I have known this village for a long time now, and yet I am so far away from its essence. I try to capture in pictures its beauty, and what I see and feel when I’m here. I want to capture the ephemeral moment, the joy of life and the loneliness of our being, to model and remodel everything I see and everything I live when I am here. Soon, the land is quiet as the night falls, and there is a smell of lilac flowers that persists in the air.
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