Someday I will really miss these places. Yes, I miss you already. The morning fog has enveloped the Gulf, and Orahovac is almost invisible. The garage is under lock and key, the gates that have never been closed are brought together and twisted with wire. The oranges have ripened and burst, and rosemary is still blooming, but the table and bench are thrown over each other, the swing is tied in a knot, the shutters are deaf and I have no keys to the house. I stroke the walls and sit on the porch.

Soon the rains will come, the garden will get wet and the dirty leaves will stick to the wet stone of the paths. The wind will rise, but the new owners have removed everything, and it will only tear off the remnants of the foliage. The mountain river Luta will wake up, it will begin to boil, escaping straight from the rock. Under the house the Stream will make noise. The winter before last, we slept in the White Room, and it seemed that there was a waterfall outside the window.

It is raining; but already in January daffodils will bloom. So wonderful: every day something new in the garden. You wake up - and you run to look, as if under a Christmas tree, what kind of surprise is there.

There is madness in heaven! Sunset time. No matter how gray the day is, in the evening, just before sunset, the sun will certainly appear at least for a few minutes from behind the clouds - and then the mountains will be bright, in the reflection of the sky - black-red, red, yellow, scarlet ...

And then the nights will become completely black and transparent after the rains, and you will smell so warm and the sea that you want to be stupid! I used to think it smelled like melting snow. But no, this is the international smell of spring.

Spring means it's time to start the motorcycle season. There is nothing better than to make a circle around the Gulf.

Boka is not just sea and mountains. Which you can't get used to. You go to throw out the garbage, you whistle, waving a bag, and then look back - and wow! Sea. Mountains. Boka is not just 100 kilometers around the bay: from Kotor to Herceg Novi, through Perast and Risan. This is a small but deep anthill of Venetian, Turkish, Austrian and all sorts of other twigs and grains of sand. No need to touch anything, just take a closer look - and there are so many interesting things! Hundreds and thousands of ships have been here. Hundreds of battles of great empires have taken place on these shores. Hundreds and thousands of tourists come every day to see Boca. But Boca is alive. She is looking at us.

Roll and look around - spring! The boat stuck to the still water. The dark slopes suddenly softened up, here and there they released something so young, so indecently green, that I both rejoice and swear, and I can’t believe my eyes!

Summer ahead. The bay is boiling, preparing for the season. Everything is clearly visible from the roof, you step carefully, cement, lay your cheek on the hot tiles - here is Prcanj, here is Kotor, here is the bell tower of St. Stase. And I'm not alone on the roof, and everything is nearby. Boca is so cozy!

And when the season starts, it will be very hot! You need to sleep on the balcony and look at the stars and the Gulf. If there is no wind, then the lights from the other side draw strange pictures on the water - I looked a lot and tried to understand and did not understand what it was. But early in the morning, sleep and air are very sweet, and only the whistle of a liner entering the Gulf makes you open your eyes. The sky is blue and clear, and it's fun to wake up, watching how the yellow sun gently begins to lick the blackness of the night from the top of Vrmac.

Early-early morning, everything has already fallen asleep and nothing has woken up yet. Silence. The cafe is still closed, of course, but the baker has, of course, already hung his bag on the doorknob.

Narrow path. Nobody is with me. I'm alone... And you have green, very green eyes.

Thank you Boca. I love you, Boca!

Author: Bulat Gizatulin