From a kiss, to the dream of a lovely romance, from the georgian family dinners, to a dinner with the nomads in the tibetan plateaus, from the intensity of the iranian nights to the endless rides through the Taklamakan, from the tragedy and the beauty of Afghanistan to the breathtaking Pamir, from the parties in Tashkent to the solitude of endless rides, from the smile of kids in Kurdistan, to the wise look of an old men, looking at the streets, any streets, contemplating, the smell of an old fish further down, the harsh smell of fresh blood from the goat just slaughtered, this tall women passing by, the perfume of the flowers she holds on to, the smell of fresh vegetables along the bazars, the sound of the yak butter seller, calling for clients, the texture of the loukoums in the palm of your hand, your hand in the dry tiny beans, the soft warm stone along the trail, the endless spinning world, complex of simplicity, dramatic of beauty… You sit, you contemplate and are happy.
Senses with senses.. You just love.
The time gone, heart and mind happy, i will keep on going, south first, then their will be a way back, because it needs to be, but not yet.
Happiness sublime of it’s softness, here at every moment, thankful, for what is, what was, and what will be.
Merci.
