Alena Zhandarova - Time Smells like Peonies
I often dream about returning to the house where my grandparents lived. I hear the rhythmic sound of the clock, feel the coolness, and finally breathe out. I’m back home. The smell of peonies, the earth strewn with apples, the feeling of stopping and my existence. I sit and pick with a stick in the moist earth and merge with it. All landmarks are gone. There is no time anymore. I’m calm and feel the depth of the moment. I’m just living. I don’t need to close my eyes to be there, this is my place of power, it taught me to be.
