I have committed to participating in the National Month of Small Stones (read about it at A River of Stones,
here). This will be a real challenge for me. Rather than my usual lengthy missives, I will be reigning in my writing muses and only writing a tiny nugget to capture what I've observed. The key is being open and aware, and noting the moment when it comes. For those of you who will miss my usual rambling, I'll be including a link to favorite "oldies" that I've written -just click on the red oldie title and the link will take you there.
Today's Small Stone...
My early memories of Hungary
are busses and armpits,
and playing at the lake,
and the huge, newspaper wrapped, whole fried fish
we ate with our fingers.
When I go nostaligic for home,
this is what floods me.
Favorite Oldie...
Kia Ora
Barb,I love "busses and armpits" I can see it, feel the bodies, and smell them too--except I'm in Prague...your writing is vivid and beautiful! And, I love your art!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Lisa! My first trip to Budapest was when I was ten. I was as tall as the average Hungarian male factory worker on a crowded bus... 'nuff said. *wink*
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