Field of blackbirds

Lovely...

The plane gently touches down on the runaway. The slight bump jerks me out of my foreboding. I was reluctant to come here. But here I am streaking down a runaway. Another foreign place. A place with a reputation for violence. A place which conjures up images of soldiers and guns. Of tanks and planes.

Reluctantly, I step out and find the sun streaming down. It was warm but devoid of the humidity of home. Squinting, I was greeted by a landscape of hills and fields. Wide flat ground dotted by quaint farm houses. Pretty in its own charming way. It was laidback. It was quiet. Shockingly, it was peaceful.

Peace? Not a word you will usually hear mentioned in the same breath as Kosovo.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s