It’s a furrowing ship through murky waters. The new taking shape here in this land. There’s a fresh sea that is missing, but the beauty is not.
All about the places we walk, there are new edifices and walkways that are buffing up what lies underneath, framing it all for today. Here. Now.
It’s a rose garden and trellis lined way in Keszthely that we make our home every summer. And the sailboats keep gliding on the lake and the smells mingle sweeter as the picture gilds a little more exquisite.
It’s the castle walls that have their new stones that complete the puzzle with the old. That’s what digs deep into my soul as I can feel the centuries speaking. It’s the cannons that flew and broke the fortress and the aging that always crumbles. It’s the cituadella that remains the beacon with a brighter face. It’s the castle that’s a patchwork of monarchies and reforming ways and hunt to remain a people with their very own unique heritage.
The new from EU grants is a well spent investment, at least to me. In the way it comes, it reminds that this is a place that walks in the ways of generations. It reinforces the walls that want to speak of the councils gone by and the courage that would not die and is calling out all the same.