Fifth Journey Day 69: Offered and Refused

Date: July 16, 2025
Location: Tbilisi, Georgia

The city feels familiar — like a shirt that's been worn for a long time, but is still loved dearly for it. I spent a few hours at the Dry Bridge Market this afternoon. The light was soft because of the clouds, which made the colors feel closer together and less shiny. Fabrics hung from rails with small wind-tugs, old medals lined up in velvet trays, and a painting of a ship — cracked and oddly sized — leaned against a stack of silver spoons. I didn't buy anything. I just touched the edges of things, watched others haggle or quietly browse, and let my eyes settle where they wanted.

There was a portrait of a woman who looked like she was thinking — not sadness, not longing, just a pause. I couldn't stop thinking about it. The vendor eventually said I could take a photo if I wanted. I didn't. I wanted the memory to be soft and unrepeatable.

Later, I sat under a chestnut tree near the river, eating slices of cucumber from a paper bag. Two pigeons argued nearby. A boy threw a stick into the air and caught it over and over again.

Today, time seemed to go by slowly. Nothing is urgent or out of the ordinary. But in the quiet, I felt gently rearranged — as if something inside had shifted just enough to make more room. I think I needed that. It's not about clarity, but space.

Tomorrow I'll see how that space wants to speak.