This morning on my run I saw a dead cat on the path. And that was not the saddest thing I saw. Tito's listening? Near the train station in Zagreb I love running in the city--any city--and have had many adventures this year. A couple of runs along the Tiber in Rome, where there were tented homeless encampments, but also construction workers preparing for festival season by building booths on the riverbank. A run in Zagreb early on a very hot morning, very few people about, featuring sober and silly public art projects. I took a long and beautiful--if slightly dusty--run in the countryside in Russia. I stopped to drink from a natural spring and was passed by a silent Russian man, dressed in a proper outfit for the country--high rubber boots, long pants, a jacket--and carrying a bunch of birch branches over his shoulder. I saw him ... and then I didn't. If he had been in a Russian film or novel he would have earned the sobriquet " vechnyi ded ," Eternal Grand...
A blog about travel and staying put, reading and writing, food and food for thought.