East

The dark green lush of the passing countryside penetrated my tired soul. I knew I was headed toward a more open landscape, where the trees stood in open distance and the land opened up, as though it awaited a welcoming.The train moved in darkness and even with my weary eyes I could glimpse the flashing lights of small villages where here and there a sole light had so far not been extinguished. Than the darkness became more profound as we slowly made our way into the bordered mountains. I closed my eyes and found myself thinking about my good friends I left behind. Somehow the good priest came up in my thoughts, as I recalled his abrupt escape from my presence in the local olive grove. I wondered again, what made him bolt so quickly as to have left his good book behind. I remember once in my many rambling conversations with Monica how in speaking about the priest, she had mentioned in passing that he had secrets. Of course being the good catholic that she was, she never elaborated nor gave even a hint. I was left now only with my imagination.