i am only happy on the road.

when it’s not the source already and it is not the destination yet.

i remember from the last trip the town and the white mountains behind the buildings from the pink stone under the bending low sun rays. the rays made clouds also slightly pink by proficient stroke of cyan shift.

i was too sick and weak to get out and make a photo.

then the road back on the ice. low gear. higher rpm numbers. do not touch brakes, noch, do not.

i remember stars over the lake from the other trip and that thin girl who was looking at them through the manhole in the car roof, stunned, unable to deviate her eyes.

i remember the alternate route to the village, deep canyon right near the edge of the road. the line of aragats mountain seems only a bit higher than the road i am on. and then the plate at the entrance with the non standard funny font.

cup of water with pieces of ginger to drink while driving.

white foxes. green lightnings in their eyes.

hama wire from the phone to the aux line of the audio system. german speech is interrupted for a moment - means email. ‘it’s snowing here, be careful. please.’ - i’ll read later. as well as the other, more excited text along the lines of ‘it’s snowing here and it is so nice’, from the other author.

no breaks, noch. turn the steering wheel a bit left then right, left then right.

one route. one tree there. one moon there. one cup. one. and many many bright stars.

stars, narrow serpentine, sudden spans of ice, canyon, contented rumbling of the engine, stars, reflections on the surface of the river far far below, stars, ice, river, rumbling, stars, shining river, ice, stars, river, ice, ice, stars, stars, stars, stars.

i am only happy on the road. #road

բնօրինակ սփիւռքում(եւ մեկնաբանութիւննե՞ր)