4 May 2011
The Serbian forest in April is jungle, with creepers devouring trees and thorn-vines snaking through the undergrowth. At sunrise and sunset a pall of mosquitoes seethes up off the river, from the carpet mosses on the trunks of trees, and strange armored beetles lumber out onto the roadway. You wake to find yourself a-cling with seed-pods, caterpillars, flakes of skin.
In Bulgaria an old man chased me up a hill with two dogs in the mid-day heat, to hand me eggs dyed red and blue and green for Easter.
Unsettled, tired, in quiet walking breakdown, fortunate, expectant,
[50 days, 1,400 km / 870 mi]