As I
sit in a chair that does not recline, in a train cabin that reeks of
urine, metal on metal squeaks all night, as my 12 hour journey pushes forward
from Bucharest to Sofia. At 6 am, with blood shot eyes, a rumbling
stomach, and a kink in my neck I look at Genghis, the Turkish man who sells
diesel pumps, sitting across from me, who doesn't look any more
comfortable than I. I peer out the window. The sun is starting to rise.
Beautiful colors pierce the clouds that are contemplating rain. Fields
roll in the early light of day, and I smile. Everything is in its right place.
In this moment, my
eyes swelled with tears of joy.
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