Estepona. A name of my dream.

I went there to fulfill a dream of a child I once were. Instead, I again became a child and gained new dreams which I continue to follow. But still, Estepona remained unachieved and therefore the most special place I visit through my thoughts and my dreams.

When life gets hard from where you come from, sometimes the best thing to do is to run.

And I ran.

 

I stopped where I felt that the sun is strong enough to warm my heart. Where the playfulness of wind would awake once lost childishly spirit in me. And where a sound of an untamed sea would remind me that human too is a free and wild creature.

Amazed that my route has brought me so far, I stood there, on a sandy beach, and stared at a coast of Africa. Never, in my dreams, have I imagined that I would be once so near it. Gibraltar’s rocks sparkled in an orange sunset rays of late spring sun leaving me breathless in my admiration of it.

It was a calm season when I came. Unlike summer days when a town becomes flooded by tourists, I was honored to meet it in it’s “worst” edition.

And I simply love it. So much joy and celebrations. I enjoyed every day watching people preparing for a festival in which they put so much effort and love that soon their care and affection towards it transferred on me too. In the end, I was losing myself on the streets of untouristic parts of Estepona, doping myself with their temper, love for life and joy. And football of course.

Really was a dream. My days consisted of sun, sea, reading, writing, beer, laughter, flamenco, guitar, morning coffee and cigarette on a terrasse …

 

Never have I imagined that it can be possible to live it. But I did. And for what Estepona thought me is: Just take a route your heart is beating for, and there, you will find a dream you never even imagined you had.

And yet, Estepona will continue to be a dream I lived which I dream to live again.

 

photo by Aleksandar Mazzora

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