A Morning In A New Place

A Morning In A New Place

A morning in a new place

At first…nothing. And, then, all of a sudden I’ve heard some rustle in front of the door as if someone stopped by, passed by, turned back, tried to hear something and left again. I haven’t recognized the sound. I am waiting for repetition, but nothing happens. I’ve opened my eyes and along with them the rest of senses stirred up as well. Tucked up in soft, comfortable bed, I gaze at white ceiling from which a simple, but nice chandelier hangs. Not so spacious room smells of unfamiliar scents; it is not perfumes, nor flowers on the nightstand, nor even new furniture. It may be stifling and stale atmosphere of the room filled with musty, old books that people read less and less, the room in which people rarely spend their time. Bookshelves pinned on the wall lie opposite the bed and behind the glass on shelves gilt titles shimmer. Both famous and unknown writers lure me, try to persuade me to get up and take one of them. And then, the morning light hit the shelfglass and completely woke me up. I’ve jumped to the window, drew back the curtains so as the sun could come into this room. At that moment, an enchanting view filled the window. The emerald-like river glitters with its glow and sunrays flicker on its surface. I feel dizzy and my eyes hurt for a moment due to beauty of verdure sparkling in the sun. The Drina spread its shores, sighed deeply and rushed so the Sava wouldn’t wait for her too long and villages along the coasts rich with coverts wouldn’t dread for her. Even though I am high above the river, it seems to me that if only I reached the hand I could fondle its cold water, ruffle its waves that wildly spin around rocks and stones under the water.
Am I dreaming?
The clamour of the city and noise below the window offend the senses. And again, rustle in front of the door. I hear footsteps. Yes, it’s been only a dream.