Alternating Black mountains and
shores, narrow, winding roads, muddy and pot-holed,
wooden houses scattered here and there, I come across speeding trucks, pitiful tractors, a horse pulling a cart.
And suddenly, facing the Black Sea, the sun breaks through heavy clouds, foam of the waves eating away at the promenade.
Fixed shadows through the car’s windows, two school children, an old woman, two men conversing calmly in the chaos.