Sometimes I want to be a child again. That first me – mostly instinct, there to play and play, full of life and promise and that feeling it will never end, of immortality in hand, his little hand that’s not my hand, but I remember.
If not a child today, then we can try another way Continue reading
Sharing the moment with my friend Vesso Ovcharov, 15km NW of Pazardzik.
As this tandem season is starting, I remember the last one – in Norway.
Let’s go fly, people! As the song in the video goes, “Kiss your fist and touch the sky”.
The curves of a woman or the curves of Pirin, it’s a similar affair, the passion is real, and love is strongest in spring and spring is strongest in love is strongest in the crisp air, between snow and sky, all is clear, the peaks are calling, goats and people feeling the urge, subconscious, go up, go up and feed yourselves, my children, says god, and we obey, in snow and sun and happiness, passengers on these slopes crossing paths, marking territory, we are here, and we’re alive, scavenging for the food these bodies crave, stalks of grass or fields of snow, we go feeding, eyes wide open, reflecting the shine of the crystals and things as they are, as they should be, pure and beautiful, we are players in the white garden.
As the winners, from 10th to 1st place, were called one by one to the loud applausе of the Mexican spectators and fellow pilots to the flooding lights of the podium, I was saluting them all at slightly different volumes, each determined by my respectometer, but saving my loudest to that one and only first place, to the Champion we have this year. Not just because he was first – I don’t care much about that (the respectometer determines your ranking better than the World Cup formula) – but because of the sheer style in which he won. Continue reading