Мы эмигранты
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Наша дорога бесконечна
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Наша дорога бесконечна
It's also funny I have never mentioned before on my blogs that my grandmother from father's side was Estonian. I have never met her for she died while giving birth to my father. Yep. My father has been in trouble since he was born. Trouble man. It must be terrible if you realize that your mother died having you, no?
Although I have always imagined her, the grandmother I've never met, as tall, skinny woman with big green eyes, blonde or reddish hair, wearing vintage dress and walking on the sun... her face glowing and eyes dreaming about seeing me - her granddaughter she never really saw. It's funny, I suppose I've been imagining her as the young and lovely woman, why would she dream about me anyway? I think every girl has thought about her grandchildren even once in a lifetime. We all would like to imagine having grandchildren one day who will look like us a little, who will remember us, who will dream of us and say sweet things about us. I cannot say if I look like my grandmother, even though I used to have strawberry blonde hair as a child.
Life is just as that song of Alina's - "emigrants". So realistic. Sometimes I feel like I am this eternal wanderer - dwelling here and there, looking for a place and space to find serenity.
