Part 1: The Realization

It dawned on me in the middle of a thunderstorm.

I was standing at the bathroom sink with a pair of underwear in my hands, scrubbing fiercly with a bar of laundry soap; scraping them over a plank of wood while warm suds squished through my fingers and trickled the length of my forearm. The candle beside the mirror wavered with each firm stroke, shaking the light and sending shadows dancing around me.

My knuckles were raw from scraping against the sink and the plank, my back was sore from leaning over the dirty sink. It was right there standing beside the pull-string toilet that it struck me: I was in completely in love.

I hadn't planned on falling in love; yet there I was, fingers dripping, underwear soaking, candlelight flickering, surrounded by dirt and sweat encrusted clothing waiting for their turn in the sink - and I'd never been so happy.

Not with a man or a person, but with a place - a place of being (Sighisoara) and an emotional place within myself.