Magically Moving.

[First of all: let me apologize about the tendency I have to have alliterated titles.
I may or may receive giddy pleasure from alliteration.]


There has been a lovely thing in common with every city I have visited. 
A river flows through each and every one.

London: Thames.
Nizhniy Novgorod: Volga and Oka
Moscow: Moskva River
St. Petersburg: Neva River
Kiev: Dnieper 
Istanbul: Bosphorus
Warsaw: Visula
Prague: Vltava


And at each one, I have felt something amazing. A love, even. There is something wonderful about a body of water. And something even greater when it rushes. 

Laura Gilpin, in my opinion, said it best: A river seems a magic thing. A magic, moving, living part of the very earth itself.

It could be because one can connect with the emotions of a river that I feel a connection to them.
The peaceful ripples that I saw today, can be greatly contrasted with rivers with raging rapids. Which, if you know me--or anyone really--are similar to emotions that I choose to share with the world: glad and peaceful, or enraged. Even the end emotion of rivers: waterfalls. The end-be-all of any emotion I feel at a great capacity is a waterfall of tears.

Anywhere you go in Eastern Europe, you are sure to hear this song. And guess what it is entitled? A River Flows Through You. I think it is because the Eastern Europeans get it. Rivers mean something. Rivers are magical, moving even.

Maybe this is why in Warsaw, when I was meandering lost and confused, I wondered towards the river. As if finding the river would give me security. But,  my friends, the river did give me comfort. After finding the river, I was able to identify my location, which then allowed me to relax, and enjoy the city.


Luckily for me:
Provo has a river. And I'm moving back. Tomorrow. [or wednesday].

k. billy