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When I was small I made up a word and it has since become part of the family vocabulary.

The word was Neizdrz (neh-is-duh-rh-zh roughly, although english doenst contain all the right phonemes)it was short for Neizdrzivo (a serb word meaning unberable). Neizdrz stood for unberable desire, in my case to see someone, to hug them.

Apparently i was an opinianated child from the beginning and I made my parents sleep with a toy lion (so that it could look after them) and was known to come pounding into a room shouting *i have unberable longing!* and throw myself bodily in the direction of the nearest ancestor.

i still get that feeling, not always for people.
soemtimes unberable longing for a more ephemeral thing, like the rain, or running with no shoes through puddles, the smell of nightflowers, the proximity of stars, the feel of pressing myself against a cool wall.

i get crazy mad longings to be that child again, to appear suddenly swoop down, shouting *i'm here! i love you! love me! stop and hug me a second*

my childhood is a jigsaw. i remember happiness and a lot of uncertainty and confusion.

my mother says i was the ruler of the house, except the real ruler was the grandmother, i was if anything the puppet king, and my palace was a house of cards.

and yet and yet and yet, i who was so quiet and withdrawn and dreamy by moments was irrepressible in others. i drew bad pictures, i told endless stories and sometimes would throw myself at people and the world just to announce i was bursting with love. most often i was away in the many roomed mansion of my imagination, but occasioanlly i was irrepressible.

tehy said i cracked jokes and tried to charm my way through the world from the moment i learned to speak but i do not remember this.

but occasionally, on the good days in the good moments like right now i become filled, brimming with the same old irrepressible joy until it seems i cannot hold it, and i dont want to hold it because my heart is so full it is spilling over. and i am a child again, i am innocent and curious and never still, i want to explore,a nd touch and taste and find out everything and jump up and down on the grass, and run around with no shoes on because when you have shoes you cant hear the earth talking to your feet

and spin
and spin
and spin

with the night ear around me like a cloak or a wing

and shout with the absolute mind-blowing delight of it being fragrant nighttime, of being alive, of being here now, in this moment, alive.

and under my feet in a language most people forget to listen to, the earth talks and sings in turn. sometimes of rain and sun, sometimes drought. the roots of the old oak, an anthill, and a deep rumble, like a scarr of old earthquakes. the earth carries memories of fire and ash and blood, and young and new things, the grass shy and tender with rain.

there is the corner of my bitter jilted rage, when i broke the earth with a spade and imagined it was the head of an old lover. but it is not all shadow. there are lighter veins, lighter songs.
where i danced to summon the rain
where i danced to spin with the stars
where i danced for the dizzying joy of earth moving
where i danced for the sheer delight of dancing
for the unbearable lightness of being
and the indescribable joy of being alive.

Upon a time
THere was a land...

so begins and ends every tale of my first home.


deep sky, firefly

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