I
remember the autumn walks with my mother and brother, again is Stara Zagora. Our favourite
thing was picking chestnuts. Those trees, for me were directly related to the city, there was their natural habitat. And it was a true miracle, having found a
chestnut still its shell, to peel it and hold it in your hand, so
warm and fresh and pure...
I
think this is another childhood treasure, along with book stores,
that I still cherish – something so simple, and yet marvellous!
©
2015, Cristiana Bobeva
*
* *
[…]
It is a sunny fall afternoon and I'm engaged in one of my favourite
pastimes – picking chestnuts. I'm playing alone under the
spreading, leafy, protective tree. […] The city, beyond the lacy
wall of trees, is humming with gentle noises. The sun has just passed
its highest point and is warming me with intense, oblique rays. I
pick up a reddish brown chestnut, and suddenly, trough its warm skin,
I feel the beat as if of a heart. But the beat is also in everything
around me, and everything pulsates and shimmers as if it were
coursing with the blood of life. Stooping under the tree, I'm holding
life in my hand, and I am in the center of
a harmonious, vibrating transparency. For that moment, I know
everything there is to know. I have stumbled into the very center
of plenitude, and I hold myself still with fulfillment,
before the knowledge of my knowledge escapes me.
Eva
Hoffman, Lost
in Translation
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