Morning above Arbanassi, Bulgaria
There's still laundry out from the trip, vestiges of the Black Sea tan. In R's fridge, one final bottle of Bulgarian champagne and probably still some leva (or stutinki) in a pocket, somewhere.
With the final threads of a perfect trip, and imagination, will hold onto Bulgaria a little longer but I can feel New York taking hold. It's turning to fall here and that seasonal switch is a rigorous one.
Labor Day watershed.
C - nostalgic