Crammed with two dozen
people into a converted van,
we slowly bumped our way
towards remote alpine air.
The hills swelled around
our caravan, an island
of sound in a deserted silence;
we plod away, leaving behind
much more than the chattering
city, its lights, creaks, and fumes.
I was unwinding a tangled string,
a nested web that gradually dissolved
into rolling hills, clear air, and a simple
meal shared among our company
in the Omphalos of Tsakartsvelo.
Something new crept inside
of me as we clambered
back into our converted van.