...where lithe lianas coil

I was thinking of this line from My Country, and I had some warm coloured oils left on my palette, so I began to paint trees and lots of green...I don't think I rightly managed the lianas, but they're there in my head.
I haven't had a drop of alcohol for 6 weeks and I haven't cried for being homesick, but when I'm on my own, on a gorgeous evening like tonight, and my work is more or less done, and the apartment's clean and I've got quiet hours to myself, it comes and it settles. And I can't chase away the questions when they come - what if B doesn't like home when he sees it?
I think increasingly often of school and people back home.
Manna's getting married, soon they'll all be paired off permanently (not like my marriage I know) and we'll all be that little bit more grown up.

A stark white ring-barked forest
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon.
Green tangle of the brushes,
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Is it spring yet? I want to be able to walk barefoot and feel the crackling heat on the back of my neck, have my skin stretch under dried salt. I long for home, that's the long and the short of it.
And as the longing grows, so does my love and patience for Budapest dwindle. I don't want to be angry (being angry at inanimate objects is silly, being angry at a city is insane!) and I don't want to brush over what made me come here in the first place.

I stood at the back of the trolley bus on the way to work today and watched the streets flit by and all I could think, was that they looked so grey this winter morning, so full of dissatisfaction and grime. Staid, and hopeless. But then I put Slayer on, and things got a little better.

This weekend we're up to Szekesfehervar again, I'm looking forward to having family around. Even if they're not mine :)