I loved them both dearly. To this day you couldn't get me to answer, if asked, which was closer to my heart. They supported me on the long road through hard times and many miles. Our long nights on the street, days filled with adventure and carefree abandon – tourists in an undiscovered land.
Not more than one of us was ever a single step behind the others. Bound together only by our mutual dependance for survival and meaning in this cold and cruel world. Life was good and we never strayed far from one another.
Perhaps our greatest adventure, escaping from the cold Bulgarian winter into the beautiful city of Istanbul where we were meet with curious sensations, a unheard foreign tongue and a minareted skyline of Sultanahmet.
Our cool evenings spent along the swift and mighty Boshperous remembering countless souls who perished, while the beggars ferry passed us by. Our Turkish days hanging along Istiklal Street amidst the crowds of tourists, locals and merchants stopping to watch the child beggars playing the flute for a Lira or two, where nearby Dervishes whirl in Galata Mevlevihanesi.
The experiences freshly heeled as we stepped into line at the security checkpoint in an unknown Czechoslovakian airport for a layover, double secure if flying to the States. Hitting the NYC pavement outside the JFK terminal for the first time in 13 months, for the first smoke in 13 hours; we're worn, jet lagged and beat from the preceding months.
A new NYC, a fresh start with a long past behind we tentatively test this familiar ground of the past, along a familiar path with a now familiar ease of an unknown destination.
They carried me far and bear the worn out souls of precarious life and abrupt changes in course. Remembering our lessons and experiences along the road of life they are shed, left behind in order to continue moving forward.
An unfortunate low quality shot of my worn out companions for so many miles and months.