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I wish I could go back there again to capture the essence of the time recapturing every word you speak and recalling the stillness in deep. 

I wish I could go back there again just to feel the length and breadth of the land and watch the sun burst beyond the hills and paint the grassland with the warmth of the morning thrill. 

I wish if I could go back there again to see the horsemen in their long boots and their guns strapped to their shoes and them chanting an unfamiliar song that is hard to understand. 

I can see the image of them walking slowly down the hill in long lines and circling the vast land that cannot be contained in the depth of the ocean. 

 The skies are touching the hills spilling the sunlight beyond the valley as the young maiden on the other side gather at the river to fill their buckets with water. 

I can still recall the long journey by train and me sandwich between two alcoholic men, and the horrible discomfort that I felt. 

There was no place to go. I had to sit and bear the pain, in a train filled with standing passenger there were people on every corner. The sleeping men occasionally lean their head on my shoulder with their rank breath soaring aloud in the packed train.  

The sound of brawling men and women are still rattling in my ears and crowded train eaters spreads out everywhere, throwing sunflower seed on the floor, and a magnificent display of culture echoes with the sound of the train as it moves slowly from province to province.  

I forced my way through the thick crowd to stretch my legs, and I kept stepping on people squatting on the floor, I couldn’t resist it; they understood it and were polite about it.  

I walked all the way down to the train cafeteria to breathe fresh air but I was greeted with circles of laughter and manmade disaster a fight broke in the coach forcing the train to stop and remove the disruptive passengers. 

The train continues its journey and cruise from province to Provence passing through scenic spot and catering to every single stop. Passengers enters with bundles on their head, bags and boots and many old things attached to their youth, they had little red envelopes in their hand alcohol galore to filled the land. 

It is the smell, the taste and the urgency that you feel to be at a place that is real, it’s the people that make life so intriguing and the places that you adore that nourish your soul. 

 When I stepped out of that train, I did not walk around in vain; I stood into a place that was larger than life and where you have to pay the price and in a country that is far away from home. 

There are still places where good people meet and those are the places that I have been. I can still see those places searching for me.
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