Every summer, I keep a close eye on my mother’s Nanking cherry trees. When the bright red berries have finally soaked up enough sun, I pick the trees clean and either eat them all or force my mother confect them into Nanking jelly. This year, there weren’t many cherries on offer. The trees had been struggling to grow and when I had picked what was suitable, there was only about a cup of cherries in a bowl. The local magpies nattered at me the whole time, clearly claiming ownership of the tree’s fruits, but I’m a people and I wanted them, even if there were only a few. After listening…
We have driven down the treacherous 8km stretch of land – generally referred to as road around Emona – that connects Emona’s remoteness to the coast’s highway for the last time. A quick album cover shoot and a send-off from the hostess of the local pub and we left for Sozopol, another coastal town along the Black Sea. It feels very bizarre to be somewhere where we see other people walking down the road instead of donkeys, cows, and wandering horses.