The first day of spring, the start of persian new year, and the calendar reads 1384.
Only six hundred years to 1984.
All the sea gulls flew to downtown yesterday, at 7:33 AM EST, to celebrate the start of the season when the wind blows less arrogantly, the sun gets warmer, and the grass is coloured greener. The girl with April in her eyes is somewhere around, probably not with an empty cup of coffee begging for some change, and not at the corner of Yonge and Dundas. I am sure she is around. I smell the spring, even though it's only a few degrees above during the day and it still drops below zero in the midnight.
It is the second spring away from my homeland, the third without the company of my parents and the fourth (or fifth) without shooting photos from my sister in her new lovely cloths. I miss them big time.