Playing around with truth

The sweet truth is that spring is (almost) here in Edmonton, Alberta. The snow is melting and the earth is rejuvenating for two rather short seasons of fertility and prosperity. Winter was surprisingly calm and mild most of the time, but I suspect that she is completely gone. The bare truth is that she comes back once or twice before the end of the April with her famous northern blizzards. The bitter truth is that we have no time to celebrate the spring with our lovely ancient Persian tradition of Norooz ceremonies this year. Don't ask me why. It's a long boring story full of bare naked truths on the expectations from graduate students.

{life.social} Persian New Year: Norouz

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.