I once dreamt of a mystical place where a medieval village nested upon an enchanted fjord hidden from the world by a series of majestically jagged mountains. This kingdom, with high walls that ascended the steep hillside, juxtaposed the gracefully eroding ruins with a bay of luxurious yachts large enough to house entire townships.
Patterns of Cinnabar colored rooftops painted the historic land as small rowboats drifted fisherman out into the aquatic abyss. Warm waters of Cyan, so clear that schools of fish stared into my eyes, surrounded my each and every step. With a running start, I leaped in toes first as the soft salinity of the Adriatic Sea devoured my body whole. Soon my head was lifted above the water’s sleek surface, allowing me to feel the day transform into dusk over the horizon. It wanted me to truly understand the reason why I was there.
Structures of my reality fall apart, material supports diminish, my interconnections fail me. But the worst of misfortunes plant themselves into a thin layer of soil. A soil so fine that in small quantity it crumbles, but in masses it forms contouring sand that cradles the body in its weakest of states. And like a midday slumber on a sunny beach, I awoke without recollection of how I arrived there but embraced the reason it came to be.
On this day, I opened two eyes and realized I was laying on a wooden plank along the water’s edge of this magical kingdom. I slowly stood up and paused for a moment to inhale the sweetly scented air. The corners of my lips began to stretch towards the lobes of my ears. Pensively gazing at the view of this utopia, I started to lift each foot, one by one, up a staircase made of round stones. As I finally reached the top, a family greeted me with smiles on their humble faces , spoke a language so distant that I could understand, and placed a small glass of rakia into my naked hand. This village was Kotor, this land was Montenegro, and this dream was no longer fantasy. It had become real.
In a parallel universe my world is free. – Juju