Like Leaves in the Wind – A Summer Day in Bansko

When summer sweeps across Bansko, a soft, warm light settles over the town. The mountains that stand watch in the distance wear a deep green cloak, and the air breathes promises of quiet adventures. That's when we feel it.
A silent whisper that says: "Today."

We grab our small Tree hammocks, the ones that disappear into the bottom of a backpack but carry the weight of all our longing for freedom. A couple of water bottles, an apple or two, and we are ready.

We walk through the outskirts of Bansko, where the streets grow quieter and stone gives way to earth. Around us, the world opens up, as if it too is taking a deep breath. We don’t say much. Words aren’t needed here. Our steps are enough.

The park lies there, a little apart from the town. Like a secret between the pulse of the city and the depth of the wilderness. The trees stretch their branches high, ancient guardians of stillness and time. We feel small and infinite at the same time.

With familiar hands, we fasten our hammocks between two sturdy trunks. Small movements. No grand gestures. As if asking the trees for permission.
And when we lie down, something happens.
The world changes.

We become lighter.
We float.

Above us, the leaves dance in the breeze, weaving an eternal pattern of life and movement. Sunbeams spill through the canopy in patches of gold. The wind carries the scent of warm earth and blooming grass. Every breath becomes a conversation with everything alive.

We say nothing. We are no longer separate from this place. We ARE the place.

Our hammocks sway in rhythm with the trees. Time dissolves, dripping through our fingers like water. No clocks. No rush. Only now.

Sometimes we close our eyes, sometimes we gaze up at the sky, where the white sails of clouds slowly drift by. A feeling of belonging fills us. Not as owners of the world, but as part of its endless fabric.

We lie there until the shadows grow longer and the breeze carries a faint hint of evening. We move slowly, as if we are still part of the trees, the wind, the light.

The hammocks are packed away again, light and faithful. No trace of us remains, except perhaps a silent energy lingering in the air, like a secret shared between us and the forest.

Walking back through the outskirts of Bansko, our steps are soft, our minds open. On our balcony, where the mountains rise against the evening sky, we sit quietly, drinking tea and letting the silence carry our thoughts.

We know we are changed, every time. A little closer to what is true. A little freer.

And when the morning comes again, someone may say, with a smile:

"Shall we bring the hammocks today too?"

And we don’t need to answer. Our hearts already do.