I miss Marta

8 days in Scotland today and if not for the few days I spent with Hannah's family there will be very little to nothing I'd have learnt from this culture. Thye hills call me as the cities present grey and dark buildings, cold winds, vehicles that dont stop for people and people that cut off people when walking as they rush inside a bus, a train, a fast food store...
Celia Cruz' words resound in my head: "There will always be empty glasses if we rely on water from the city..." The best memories are my bus drives as i see the countryside and the countryside sees me: bottled up in a tin can, scrapping these plastic panels, yearning to come out, pleading to get dirty in the mud, to fall on the ice, to listen to the animals at night... I shut my eyes and remember Marta. I try but the sounds of her rackling chain are replaced by screeching tires, evading potholes are replaced by evading careless people that won't even acknowledge you when they bump you...
I miss Marta and miss the road. Soon now, soon...
Promise to come back, to see it properly, when the highlands can offer me a ground to sleep in, some shelter to cover me at night and a 1001 stories to fill my head and heart....